Oh winds, whistle around and around
The plight of the High Street beggar
Before the day ends and darkness engulfs
To all corners of the city of Bangor.
Oh winds, move on and on sprightly,
Stop not to assess his deftness
On the strings of guitar. Spread
The news before his fingers become numb.
Oh winds, whistle around and around;
Pause not to judge the rhythm of the hymn,
Stop not to decipher the tune.
Carry the news before his voice chokes.
Oh winds, move on and on: don’t stay still
Entranced by the magic spell of the song.
Carry the news to all corners of Bangor
Before light fades out from his eyes.
