OUT on the moor the sun is bright,
And the gorse is yellow,
The sky is blue and the air is light,
And a little fellow
May walk for miles in the grassy way,
On a holiday.
Out on the moor the wild bee dips
In the sweet fresh heather,
And through the bracken the young hare slips,
In the autumn weather,
And all around shine the tiny wings
Of a thousand things.