Woorden: Seth Lakeman. Poor Man's Heaven. Hurlers.

Sunday morning, in the summertime
Over worship we hurlers climb
Over mountains, valleys deep
Those bells are ringing around our feet

"Come! Take this morning" cried the priest,
"For all good hurlers are the Devil's feast!
He will curse you where you stand
Mark his circle upon our land"

"Oh hurler boys, come on make your choice."
He said "Oh, you hurler boys, come on, make your choice -
Where you stand!
Where you stand!"

Bold, brave and strong, we ran the day
'Til thunder rolled in with silver rain
Through our fingers; down our backs -
The curse was rising and we were trapped

"Oh hurler boys, come on make your choice."
He said "Oh, you hurler boys, come on, make your choice - Where you stand!
Where you stand!"

Tall, straight and stubborn, we face the sky
That lightening pierced us, our voices cried out

Bloody silver, our hearts of stone,
We make no shadows, we stand alone

"Oh hurler boys, well come on make your choice."
He said "Oh you hurler boys, come on, make a choice
He said "Oh you hurler boys, come on, make your choice,
He said "Oh you hurler boys, come on, make your choice -
Where you stand!

You hurler boys,
Where you stand!

You hurler boys,
Where you stand!

You hurler boys,
Where you stand!

You hurler boys,
Where you stand!

Where you stand!"