I am dreaming of the mountains of my home
of the mountains where in childhood I would roam
I have dwelt ‘neath 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 magic music of the Urdd
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 god my soul will keep
it is there I want to sleep
with those dear old folks that loved me long ago

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