The Golden Hill - a song by Merrigan

The magic happens when Merrigan sings it, here. I highly recommend checking her youtube channel for more of her beautiful music.

--------------------------------

The hill of gold, the forest old /
has had a dreaded curse for years untold /
And many men have perished up upon its slopes. /
In darkest nights it still glows bright /
The trembling leaves all bathed in sunny light /
And some do tell the forest’s spell /
is the lonely chime of faded hopes.

One winter’s night a woman died /
Her husband never once did leave her side /
His prayers unheard, her soul transferred, /
her arms grew cold in his embrace. /
Come midnight’s gale he left the vale /
And made his way upon the cursed trail /
towards the hill, towards the trees, /
to seek oblivion’s last grace.

Truths hide between the leaves and the gold-trees never lie; /
Come rest your head beneath me and I promise you will never die.

In raging storm the hill’s calm form /
was shining rays of gold, its welcome warm; /
The man approached, his loss a-cutting like a knife; /
Beneath the trees he felt the breeze, /
its faint caress did set his heart at ease /
for that light touch resembled much /
the fingers of his loving wife.

His mind now clear, he dared draw near; /
Between the trunks he thought he could just hear /
The calling voice of his heart’s choice -  /
His gone love’s echoing last song; /
The calming sound engulfed him round /
the whispering leaves with promises profound /
of joy to have, of newfound love /
Of endless comfort, ever-long.

Truths hide between the leaves and the gold-trees never lie;
Come rest your head beneath me and I promise you will never die.

“It’s peaceful so, why no-one’d go /
between these olden trees? They comfort so; /
‘Tis odd indeed, why say the golden hill is cursed? /
I rest my head on nature’s bed, /
worries faded off and sorrows fled; /
Upon this path no winter’s wrath - /
There’s nothing here but peace and rest.

Before the dawn, as silver shone /
upon the hill, the man’s still sleeping form /
the roots arose, embracing close /
his sleeping arms reached to the skies; /
His hair grew green, his face serene, /
And soon there was no feeling left within; /
The bark concealed the man now healed -  /
A new gold tree of whispered cries.

Truths hide between the leaves and the gold-trees never lie;
Come rest your head beneath me and I promise you will never die.