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(By Sandy Denny. U.F.O. Music, Inc. (C) 1972)

I can`t believe that it`s so cold
And there ain`t been no snow.
The sound of music it comes to me
>From every place I go.
Sunday morning, there`s no one in church,
But the clergy`s chosen man
And he is fine I won`t worry about him.
Got the book in his hand.

Oh, there`s a bitter east wind, and the fields are swaying,
The crows are round their nests.
I wonder what he`s in there a saying
To all those souls at rest.
I see the path which lead to the door,
And the clergy`s chosen man.
Bushes and bria
You and I,
Where do we stand?

I wonder if he knows I`m here,
Watching the briars grow.
And all these people beneath my shoes,
I wonder if they know.
There was a time when every last one,
Knew a clergy`s chosen man.
Where are they now?
Thistles and thorns,
Among the sand.

I can`t believe that it`s so cold
And there ain`t been no snow.
The sound of music it comes to me
>From every place I go.
Sunday morning, there`s no one in church,
But the clergy`s chosen man
Bushes and briars,
Thistles and thorns
Upon the land.

(By Sandy Denny. U.F.O. Music, Inc. (C) 1972)

I can`t believe that it`s so cold
And there ain`t been no snow.
The sound of music it comes to me
>From every place I go.
Sunday morning, there`s no one in church,
But the clergy`s chosen man
And he is fine I won`t worry about him.
Got the book in his hand.

Oh, there`s a bitter east wind, and the fields are swaying,
The crows are round their nests.
I wonder what he`s in there a saying
To all those souls at rest.
I see the path which lead to the door,
And the clergy`s chosen man.
Bushes and bria
You and I,
Where do we stand?

I wonder if he knows I`m here,
Watching the briars grow.
And all these people beneath my shoes,
I wonder if they know.
There was a time when every last one,
Knew a clergy`s chosen man.
Where are they now?
Thistles and thorns,
Among the sand.

I can`t believe that it`s so cold
And there ain`t been no snow.
The sound of music it comes to me
>From every place I go.
Sunday morning, there`s no one in church,
But the clergy`s chosen man
Bushes and briars,
Thistles and thorns
Upon the land.

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