Catherine liked high places
High up, high up on the hills
A place for making noises
Like whales
Noises like the whales
Here she built a chapel
With her image
Her image on the wall
A place where she could rest and rest
And a place where she could wash

And listen to the wind blowing
And listen to the wind blow
And listen to the wind
And listen to the wind blow

She dreamt of children's voices
She dreamt of children's voices
And torture
And torture on the wheel
Torture on the wheel
Patron Saint of nothing
A Patron Saint of nothing, nothing, nothing
A woman of the hills
Just of the hills
She once was a lady
What a lady
Of pleasure and high born
Of pleasure and high, high, high
A lady of the city
Lady of the city
But now she sits and moans
Moaning, moaning, moan

Listen
And listens to the wind blow
And listens to the wind blow
Listen to the wind blow

I see her in her chapel
I see her in her chapel
High up on the hill
High up on the hill
She must be so lonely
So lonely
O Mother, can't we give
Catherine
A husband to our Catherine?
A husband, Catherine
A handsome one, a dear?
A handsome one, Catherine
A rich one for the lady
A rich one, Catherine
Someone to listen with?
Someone, listen

And listen to the wind blow
And listen to the wind blowing
And listen to the wind blow
And listen to the wind blowing
And listen to the wind blow
And listen to the wind blowing
And listen to the wind blow
And listen to the wind blowing