Chapel Hill, Oxford, Charlottesville, God only knows where next. Would very much like to live in a P. G. Wodehouse novel if that can be arranged.
The garrison sleeps in the citadel
With the ghosts and the ancient stones
High on the parapet
A Scottish piper stands alone
And high on the wind
The highland drums begin to roll
And something from the past just comes
And stares into my soul
The garrison sleeps in the citadel
With the ghosts and the ancient stones
High on the parapet
A Scottish piper stands alone
And high on the wind
The highland drums begin to roll
And something from the past just comes
And stares into my soul
It is hardly a wonder that Mozart loved the city.
It is hardly a wonder that Mozart loved the city.