Ancient Hills

Boldly slashing the horizon Your distant blue peaks great beacons Beacons of hope, beacons of love Beacons of unyielding greatness Beacons of strength. From you spring our noble gardens Of smiling blue roses Growing defiantly on bare rocks Steadily sparring many giant thorns. These ancient hills Motherly cradling a pampered race Of me, of you, of these steadfast people Proudly flooding the promise land. I cry within a foreign soil For just another sip of your gentle river But soon, yes soon When the winds blow south I shall find my way once more To your homely sunlit summit.