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 Rhyl
There is nothing to compare
With the love that once was there
In that lonely little homestead of 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
