O'er the Hills (Дозорный Отряд)

O’er the hills an’ far away,
’Twas there I left my dearie,
An’ as I left I heard her say,
‘Come back to me d’ye hear me,

Y’may eat cake an’ drink pale wine,
But come back home at autumn time,
An’ on fresh bread’n’cheese you’ll dine,
For no one brews good ale like mine.

’O fields are green an’ skies are blue,
Ole woods are high an’ full o’ loam,
But hearken friend I’ll tell you true,
Ain’t no place in the world like home.

O’er the hills an’ far away,
‘Tis there my home’s awaitin’,
The season’s shorter by a day,
Whilst I’m anticipatin’

A logfire made from cracklin’ pine,
An’ washin’ dancin’ on the line,
As blossoms ’round the door entwine,
Hurrah, for there’s that dearie mine!