Greenback Meadows

(hummmm) Stone-built cottage

where the boundaries trace

Generations carved into this quiet place

No yellow pines, no dusty desert trail

Just green hills waking

under misty veil

And the clouds are hanging low

upon the ridge Where the river

bends beneath the old stone bridge

In these rolling fields where the wild wind blows Through the ancient

valleys where the heather grows I don't need the plains or the

southern skies

This green land is where my spirit lies

Down the country lanes where the hawthorns bloom

Watching shadows stretch in the afternoon

They sing of highways stretching endless wide

But I'll take the footpaths on the mountainside

In these rolling fields where the wild wind blows Through the ancient

valleys where the heather grows I don't need the plains or the

southern skies

This green land is where my spirit lies This green land...

Where my spirit lies (ahhhh)