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THE WIND

Catherine liked high places
High up on the hills
A place for making noises
Noises like the whales
Here she built a chapel with
Her image on the wall
A place where she could rest and
A place where she could wash
and listen to the wind blow

She dreamt of children's voices
And torture on the wheel
Patron-Saint of nothing
A woman of the hills
She once was a lady
Of pleasure, and high-born
A lady of the city
But now she sits and moans
and listen to the wind blow

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

PJ Harvey & Seamus Murphy to release debut book of poetry & photos
posted: 01.12.2014
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PJ Harvey scores Ian Rickson's 'Electra'
posted: 03.10.2014
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PJ Harvey, Paul Hartnoll and Flood: Peaky Blinders
posted: 02.10.2014
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