Hoah,
hoah,
hoah
Hoah, hoah,
hoah
The shepherd works the old ways With his flock of Hampshire downs
A Gabriel oak for modern times Doesn't measure wealth in pounds
An iron crook,
his wooden hut Old English by his side
His tall chair offers warmth for them On endless winter nights
A tough and dedicated man Contented with his lot
Listens for the cluck it bells To situate his flock
Red sky in the morning How carelessly we're losing sight
We know the price of all Of the treasure we hoard
But the one thing we can't buy Burns bright,
the red sky at night
Hoah, hoah,
hoah Hoah, hoah,
hoah Hoah, hoah, hoah
Two months in the lambing yard For our shepherding midwife
Material things mean little As his attitude implies
Find a job you love,
he says As his empire he surveys
And there'll be no shepherd's warning To start your working day
Red sky in the morning How easily we're losing sight
We know the price of all Of the treasure we hoard
But the one thing we can't buy Burns bright,
the red sky at night
Hoah, hoah, hoah Hoah, hoah,
hoah
Red
sky in the morning How carelessly we're losing sight
Do we value all of the treasure we hoard
But the simple and comforting sight
Of red sky at night
Red sky at night
Red sky in the morning
How easily we're losing sight
We know the price of all Of the treasure we hoard
How long will we still see the light Of a red sky at night
Red sky
Red sky
Hoah,
hoah,
hoah Red sky
Red Sky
Ho-ah,
Ho-ah,
Red Sky
Red Sky
Ho-ah,
Ho-ah,
Red Sky
Red
Sky at night