How the moountains call me to the place I want to be,
I yearn to roam through valleys and set my spirit free,
Discovering the beauty of the early morning dawn,
Being there in Springtime to see the new lambs born,
To feel the gentle breeze blow warm against my face,
The joy of being able to escape the human race,
Strolling through fields embellished with golden grain,
Growing to maturity helped by the wind and rain.

The hedgerows with hips and haws
and spiders webs spun new,
Sparkling in the morning with diamond drops of dew,
Banks of coloured flowers growing in the wild,
Mother Nature tends them, each one her sacred child,
Rabbits play by burrows, rarely undisturbed,
High above the treetops I hear the singing birds,
The mountains and the valleys roll unending to the sea,
Beckoning and pleading, they are calling out to me.