Well he died at 39Some kind of pills and homemade wineHe left his english brideAnd a love he couldn't deny behindFolks have come to sayHe nearly gave the land awayHe couldn't understandHow a man could own the land anywayWhen grandpa had had his fillHe'd take a walk up old Ore HillTo the land of a thousand shadowsAnd things would come aroundFrom the day that he was bornThe mountain had been his homeHe'd sit late afternoonWatch the shadows reach the moon aloneThen shewanakw-nan cameAnd things began to changeHe dealt against his willAnd moved down off the hill ashamedWhen grandpa had had his fillHe'd take a walk up old Ore HillTo the land of a thousand shadowsAnd things would come aroundWell, he died at 39Glad to leave this world behindTired of holding onTo a place he didn't belongTo find....That grandpa had lost his willTo take a walk up old Ore HillTo the land of a thousand shadowsAnd things would come aroundWhen grandpa had had his fillHe'd take a walk up old Ore HillTo the land of a thousand shadowsAnd things would come around

 

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