For these am I comforted, and I'm going home.
For fame and for fortune, I've wandered the earth.
But now I've returned to the land of my birth.
I've brought back my treasures, but only to find
they're less than the pleasures I first left behind.
For these are my mountains, and this is my glen.
The days of my childhood, I see them again.
No land ever claimed me, nor far did I roam.
For these are my mountains, and I'm going home.
The stream by the road sings at my going by.
The lark overhead wings a welcoming cry.
The lake where the trout lie, once more I will see.
For it's there that my heart lies, it's there I must be.
For these are my mountains, and I'm going home.
Kind faces will meet me, and welcome me in.
And oh, how they'll greet me back home again.
This night round the fireside, old songs will be sung.
At last I'll be hearing my own mother's tongue.
For these are my mountains, and this is my glen.
The days of my childhood, I see them again.
No land ever claimed me, nor far did I roam.
For these are my mountains, and I'm going home.
For these are my mountains, and I'm going home.