Lyrics
InvocationBefore the bell, before the flame,
Before the first man ever came,
The mountain waited, dark and still,
With iron sleeping in the hill.
Verse 1They came with leather, lamp and rope,
With bread, with fear, with stubborn hope.
The fathers taught the sons the way,
Down where the sun could never stay.
They struck the stone by candlelight,
And listened to the weight of night.
Each hammer rang, then fell away,
Yet something heard what none could say.
ChorusThe ledgers fade, the timbers fall,
The rust climbs slowly over all.
But under root, beneath the rain,
The mountain keeps their names.
Verse 2Above, the women watched the road
And counted hours beneath the load.
A kettle cooled beside the fire,
A child slept close, the flames burned higher.
Some heard the boots return at dawn,
Some saw the lanterns carried on.
Some waited through the morning rain
And never heard those steps again.
ChorusThe church bells fade, the crosses lean,
The years grow wild where homes have been.
But deeper than the roots can claim,
The mountain keeps their names.
Verse 3One man grew old beneath the dust,
His hands were split, his breathing hushed.
One boy went down before his prime
And came back old before his time.
One stranger crossed the forest track,
With no one waiting for him back.
His name was written once in ink,
Then lost between the years that sink.
ProcessionalThe breaker of stone.
The bearer of fire.
The keeper of timber.
The furnace supplier.
The father. The brother.
The husband. The son.
The men who returned. The men who were gone.
Verse 4The mine fell quiet, gate by gate,
The rails were left to frost and weight.
The ladders rotted in the deep,
The shafts were sealed and left to sleep.
Then birches rose beside the wall,
And moss drew green across it all.
The forest covered every scar,
But never buried who they were.
ChorusThe ledgers fade, the timbers fall,
No living voice remembers all.
Yet under pine, beneath the rain,
The mountain keeps their names.
When every bell has lost its sound,
When snow lies deep above the ground,
When none remain to bear the flame,
The mountain keeps each name.
CodaAnd sometimes, when the night is clear,
A distant hammer seems so near.
Not ghost, nor wind, nor falling stone,
But memory working on its own.
The forest listens.
The dark remains.
The mountain keeps their names.