I always think of this song when mornings are filled with mist and the end of October slips into Celtic winter. It's a rough copy - I've lost the original around here somewhere but was anxious to share it. Thank you to dear friend Lesl Harker for adding her whistle. Lyrics are from a Welsh poem of the same title by William Jones of Bala, Wales

I always think of this song when mornings are filled with mist and the end of October slips into Celtic winter. It's a rough copy - I've lost the original around here somewhere but was anxious to share it. Thank you to dear friend Lesl Harker for adding her whistle. Lyrics are from a Welsh poem of the same title by William Jones of Bala, Wales (1896-1961). The melody is a variant of the Irish tune used from She Moved Through the Fair - and both with a haunting theme.