I am dreaming of the mountains of my home
Of the mountains where in childhood I did roam
I have dwelt beneath southern skies
Where the summer never dies
But my heart is in the mountains of my home
I can see the little homestead on the hill
I can hear the parting music of the hill
There is nothing to compare
With the love that once was there
There is nothing to compare

In that lonely little homestead on the hill
I can see that little homestead on the hill
I can hear the magic music of the rill
There is nothing to compare
With the love that once was there
In that lonely little homestead on the hill
I can see the quiet churchyard down below
Where the mountain breezes wander to and fro
And when God my soul will keep
It is there I want to sleep
With those dear old folk that lived far away



have to be
long
ago.
So long
ago.
So long ago.