Catherine liked high places, high up,
High up on the hills.
A place for making noises like whales,
Noises like the whales.
Here she built a chapel with her image,
Her image on the wall.
A place where she could rest and rest,
And a place where she could wash, shhhhh.
And listen to the wind blowing.
And listen to the wind blow, and listen to the wind
(And listen to the wind blow).
She dreamt of children's voices and torture on the wheel,
Patron Saint of nothing, a woman of the hills.
She once was a lady of pleasure and high born,
A lady of the city, but now she sits and moans,
And listens to the wind blow, listen to the wind blow.
I see her in a chapel, high up on the hill,
She must be so lonely, oh Mother, can't we give
A husband to our Catherine, a handsom one, a deal,
A rich one for the lady, someone to listen with.
And listen to the wind blow. (x4)