Black is the Color

Memories like voices that call in the wind,
Medhel an gwyns,
Medhel an gwyns.
Whispered and tossed on the tide coming in,
Medhel, oh, medhel an gwyns.
Voices like songs that are heard in the dawn,
Medhel an gwyns, medhel an gwyns.
Singing the secrets of children unborn,
Medhel, oh, medhel an gwyns.
Dreams like the memories once born on the wind,
Medhel an gwyns, medhel an gwyns.

Lovers and children and copper and tin,
Medhel, oh, medhel an gwyns.
Dreams like the castles that sleep in the sand,
Medhel an gwyns, medhel an gwyns.
Slip through the fingers or held in the hand,
Medhel, oh, medhel an gwyns.
Songs like the dreams that the bow maiden spins,
Medhel an gwyns, medhel an gwyns.

Weaving the song of the cry of the tin,
Medhel, oh, medhel an gwyns.
Medhel and gwyns, medhel an gwyns.
Medhel, oh, medhel an gwyns.