He hails from a Mountain Town far north of here
Where weather-wise the Winters are windy, cold, wet and severe
But opposed to the weather the people of his Hometown at heart warm and kind
And better than them one could not hope to find
He miss the old Town at the foot of the hill
And the ever babbling sound of the clear mountain rill
That down through the old fields by grove and hedgerow
To the river that to the great ocean does flow,
The elders of his younger years where now they do lay
They will not hear the chaffinch singing in the May
The years on him showing his hair is silver gray
In his Hometown he would be a stranger today
But he still feels nostalgic for his old Homeplace
Where decades ago his was a known and loved face.
Where weather-wise the Winters are windy, cold, wet and severe
But opposed to the weather the people of his Hometown at heart warm and kind
And better than them one could not hope to find
He miss the old Town at the foot of the hill
And the ever babbling sound of the clear mountain rill
That down through the old fields by grove and hedgerow
To the river that to the great ocean does flow,
The elders of his younger years where now they do lay
They will not hear the chaffinch singing in the May
The years on him showing his hair is silver gray
In his Hometown he would be a stranger today
But he still feels nostalgic for his old Homeplace
Where decades ago his was a known and loved face.
