From the album In the Hills

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Lyrics

In a graveyard in a small northern town
Stands a wooden cross, all weathered and worn
And the tree sweeping o’er is the biggest one around
In it’s shade, is that grave so quiet, kind of sacred and forlorn

And it beckons, and I’m slowly drawn in
Like a temple, so quiet and calm
And the name written there in English and Gwich’in
Is etched now on my soul and I wonder what has led her to this home

Louisa, where the weeping birch grows
Louisa, where the weeping birch grows

Yes I wonder did she live all alone?
Did her lover leave her a child that died much too young?
Was she old or a baby when she came here to rest her bones
Did she do something great to deserve such a holy resting place?

Louisa, where the weeping birch grows
Louisa, where the weeping birch grows

….The truth of her life to me may never be known
But the magic of this place will follow me wherever I roam

Louisa, where the weeping birch grows
Louisa, where the weeping birch grows