Old melody that I tried to learn
When I gave myself over to it
Learned every step and my efforts were met
When it rang and it told and it sang

Prattle on strings, familiar rings
If the line is a chain past today
Then each fiddler that played is another that stayed
To turn himself into the link
And he's still up here somewhere I think

And I hear the old voices singing
This song will never end
It was here long ago and continues to grow
In the fields of progeny
In the fields of progeny

Where is the culture you ask, I don't know
And when is the future you ask, I don't know
Is it locked in the ice?
Is it under the frost?
I can hardly hear the heart beating

But it's under the snow I suppose
And where is the history?
And where is the memory?
Where is the language that I used to know?
Is it locked in the ice?
Is it under the frost?
I can hardly hear the heart beating
But it's under the snow I suppose

And I hear the old voices singing
This song will never end
It was here long ago and continues to grow
In the fields of progeny
In the fields of progeny