| Head of ribbons running down the brae
|
| In the morning, in the morning
|
| Barefoot sisters and a milking pail
|
| Turning around
|
| At the weekend the boats come in
|
| From the herring, from the herring
|
| Wives and families and the table laid
|
| Turning again
|
| Forever you’ll be eyes of blue
|
| In the circle of your youth
|
| Picking every blade of truth
|
| Down the Newton road
|
| War is over and the boys come home
|
| From the fighting, from the fighting
|
| Love letters and a great unknown
|
| Turning again
|
| Counting your blessings at the village hall
|
| To the dancing, to the dancing
|
| A lot of loving and a lot of soul
|
| Turning again
|
| Forever you’ll be eyes of blue
|
| In the circle of your youth
|
| Picking every blade of truth
|
| Down the Newton road
|
| You took your beauty and your heart of gold
|
| To the alter, to the alter
|
| Bound forever in an August vow
|
| Turning around
|
| The skies of summer shone around your door
|
| Little children, little children
|
| Three men who couldn’t love you more
|
| Turning again
|
| Forever you’ll be eyes of blue
|
| In the circle of your youth
|
| Picking every blade of truth
|
| Down the Newton road
|
| One door opens and another closed
|
| Oh the parting, oh the parting
|
| New arrivals and a family grown
|
| Turning around
|
| Head of ribbons running down the brae
|
| In the morning, in the morning
|
| Pulling moments from the clock of faith
|
| Turning again
|
| Forever you’ll be eyes of blue
|
| In the circle of your youth
|
| Picking every blade of truth
|
| Down the Newton road
|
| Forever you’ll be eyes of blue
|
| In the circle of your youth
|
| Picking every blade of truth
|
| Down the Newton road |