I was born on the holy ground A running child in fields of clover I was living in the grandeur Of my father's land mmm... By the side of the swirling sea I spent the days of childish wonder And the rocks I held in my young hands I never felt them slip away Well the sun shone bright upon the waves And the wind blew high as I was leaving And I sailed so far away Looking for adventure mmm... But I would not stay where the city streets proclaimed so loudly man's endeavours Though music is a pretty thing in fine company And the wilderness took my breath away I felt I had to find my way Where no-one ever goes mmm... It was in the south that my new home lay With a dark eyed boy and wild horses With humming birds and roses there in old Mexico There the winds of change they blew so far Of liberty and revolution And it seemed that each man heard in his breast the drumming of a nation mmm... I was born on the holy ground A running child in fields of clover I was living in the grandeur Of my father's land mmm...