The burnished cloack

The wind blows in the forest

The sweet girl was by the stream

An owl hoots breathlessly

The clothes freeze on the hedges

Jenny's red hair

Falls over her green eyes

Like the ribbons that tie the sleeves

Of Jenny's graceful dress

Where is the burnished cloak

That covers the young shoulders

Now the skin grows cold

It looks like leather forgotten in a stable

A gust stronger than the others

Makes the oak branches howl

That has shaded those waters for centuries

And in its presence, loves are consumed

I called my distant brother

The blond Danny lost in the fumes

Of a black coal mine

He didn't listen or he was too drunk

I called baby Jesus

Saint Patrick and his four-leaf clover

The Virgin for protection

But I received no answers, I received no hands from heaven

Where is the burnished cloak

That covers the young shoulders

Now the skin grows cold

It looks like leather forgotten in a stable

Now The sun warms

The oaks lick their branches

The banks of the cheerful stream

Abuzz with song and joy

But where is Jenny and her burnished cloak

Now it's crumpled in a heather meadow

It blends in with the earth and the leaves

It looks like leather forgotten in a stable