Hi for the hills of purple heather,
Ho for the breezy mountain tops!
Now in the golden autumn weather –
Hi for the hills of purple heather
Too long tied by a business tether –
Too long stuck in the stuffy shops –
Hi for the hills of purple heather,
Ho for the breezy mountain tops!

Always to me the hills are splendid,
Now in the autumn they are best;
With green and brown and purple blended,
Always to me the hills are splendid.
Now to their welcome arms extended
I fly like child to mother’s breast.
Always to me the hill are splendid,
But now in autumn they are best.

Back on the hills for which I’m yearning,
I’ll watch the glorious God of day
With sunsets grand the west adorning.
Back on the hills for which I’m yearning
I’ll watch him ope the gates of Morning,
And drive the hosts of Night Away.
Back on the hills for which I’m yearning
I’ll watch the glorious god of day.

Hi for the hills with pristine graces
As they came from the hands of God –
With breezy crowns and bright brae faces
Hi for the hills with pristine graces;
The fairest, most forsaken places;
Shunned by the despot and the fraud.
Hi for the hills with pristine graces,
As they came from the hands of God.

MICHAEL MULLIN, ‘The Bard of Foremass’ Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross Tyrone.