Over the Hills and Far Away

Over the hills and far away,

A little boy steals from his morning play

And under the blossoming apple-tree

He lies and dreams of the things to be:

Of battles fought and of victories won,

Of wrongs o'erthrown and of great deeds done—

Of the valor that he shall prove some day,

Over the hills and far away—

Over the hills and far away!

Over the hills and far away

It's, oh, for the toil of the livelong day!

But it mattereth not to the soul aflame

With a love for riches and power and fame!

On, O man! while the sun is high—

On to the certain joys that lie

Yonder where blazeth the noon of day.

Over the hills and far away—

Over the hills and far away!

Over the hills and far away,

An old man lingers at close of day;

Now that his journey is almost done,

His battles fought and his victories won—

The old-time honesty and truth,

The trustfulness and the friends of youth,

Home and mother—where are they?

Over the hills and far away—

Over the years and far away!