Songbirds fly
up and down the mountainside
Where did they go?
Now that hillside's covered in snow.

And the old tree it will rock with the wind on its skin,
and the wind it will knock: let me come in.
And the old tree it will rock with the wind.

High on that hill
in the dying November,
I'm up there still,
trying to remember.

The house has grown quiet and we're smooring the fire,
deep in the ashes an ember still glows.
Sap has fallen but that tree is alive -
this is what the songbirds know.

And the old tree it will rock with the wind on its skin,
and the wind it will knock: let me come in.
And the old tree it will rock with the wind on its skin,
and the wind it will knock: let me come in.

Traditional Appalachian Reel - Frosty Morning.
Learned from Tom Adler, Santa Fe.

Char - 5-string banjo, dobro, gaida, vocals.
Robby - cajon, kariyan, vocals.
Jon - bass.