There's a mist moving over the mountain
Close to the place I call home
Where the song of the sparrow and the whistling of the trees
Pulls me in like I was that old
Salute,
Elio Salute,
Elio
Salute,
Elio
This song of old Glencoe
Let
me tell you the tale of a traveller
Who knew not the hells he
had drawn
When he saw his reflection in the water crystal clear
It was then he knew he
was home Salute,
Elio Salute,
Elio Salute,
Elio
This song of old Glencoe
This song of old Glencoe
Salute, Elio Salute,
Elio
This song of old Glencoe
This song of old Glencoe