(HenryHoldridge)
Whalebones and crosses stand against the Arctic sky.
The wind blows through the graveyard where our fallen fathers lie.
Eternal snow that covers them, the shadows of the sun.
The mighty struggle on the seas, a way of life is run.
I'll sing for you my father, for the ancient sacred ways.
How the hunter loved the hunted, how the night becomes the day.
The circle of the mighty spirit keeps us in its fold.
The warmth of understanding like a light shot through the cold.
Then bring to me my people, touch them with your loving hands.
Lead them from confusion, lead them back unto the land.
For sickness seems to block their path, it clouds my people's eyes.
The promise that an idle truth will reap a golden lie.
Whalebones and crosses stand against the Arctic sky.
The wind blows through the graveyard where our fallen fathers lie.
The timeless hunt, a journey back to what we once came from.
Compassion and nobility beneath the midnight sun.
The mighty struggle on the seas, a way of life is run.
