Lightning cracks the convent mist curls to the bells
Trees run down to the road, protect the convent girls
A Sister somewhere bows her head to pray
Offer protection, a place to hide away

Deep in Sherwood Forest the elves keep to themselves
No one is scarecrow, the witch has no spells
A map of tree tops, a road that's made of clay
It's hard to get to, a place to hide away

I'm thinking of Mondaino, I'm thinking of Greece
I'm thinking a walled city to give me my peace
I might take up teaching, I have a lot to say
At a roundtable, at a place to hide away

I might take you up on one fine sunny day
I might take you up to a place to hide away

Copyright: DOMINO PUBLISHING COMPANY
Writer(s): ROBERT DERWENT GARTH FORSTER