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Castelo Dos Mouros

Words and Music by Ben Scott (c) 2008

She was the last of four, from Dublin’s suburbs she came
One brother still loitering in his bed, drinking pints down at the Long Hall
She left her native shore, as many had done before her
Not knowing what she sought and not caring where she’d stay

And she lay in a Portuguese hostel
Feeling intrepid and slightly unwell
Singing hey de day de dum da de day
Singing hey de day de dum da de day

He was a North Coast man, he gave himself to the sea
He went in search of different waves and escape from drug-borne apathy
His friends they shook their heads as they waved him on his way
His mother she spoke in worried tones of theft and inoculation

As he gazed into a world of cloud
With nothing left to worry about
Singing hey de day de dum da de day
Singing hey de day de dum da de day

They met in an olive grove in the Castelo dos Mouros
They exchanged knowing glances over guide-map interpretation
And they argued their cultural differences over coffee and some sort of pastry
But they knew that this would lead to pain and they resolved to find their own way

But each new way they turned
They turned the same damn way
Singing hey de day de dum da de day
Singing hey de day de dum da de day
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