|
I am dreaming of the mountains of my home
Of the mountains where in childhood I would roam
I have witnessed southern skies where the summer never dies
But my heart is in the mountains of my home
But my heart is in the mountains of my home
I can see the little homestead on the hill
I can hear the magic music of the Rhyl
There is nothing to compare
With the love that once was there
In the lonely little homestead on the hill
There is nothing to compare
With the love that once was there
In the lonely little homestead on the hill
I can see the quiet churchyard down below
Where the mountain breezes wander to and fro
And when good my soul will keep
It is there I want to sleep
With those dear old folks that loved me long ago
With those dear old folks that loved me long ago
|
|
