One Green Hill

There's nothing for your comfort 

in the place where I was born 

Someone's got the roses 

'cause my people got the thorns; 

My people are the poor ones, 

their country made of stones 

Their wealth is in persistence, 

in stories and in bones



and one green hill, one green hill 

one far green hill we carry everywhere



The tide must have a turning, 

the wind must have a change 

Children go to cities 

where the stars look strange 

And memory's a winding path, 

shining in the rain 

To places where we parted 

and we shall not meet again



on one green hill, one green hill 

one far green hill we carry everywhere



And somewhere in the story, 

it came as no surprise 

One time, for all time, the rain got in my eyes…



It might he tears of laughter, 

it might be tears of rage 

You hate it and you love it 

and it rattles at your cage 

My people are survivors, living in the cracks 

Whatever bad luck hands them, 

they keep on coming back



to one green hill, one green hill 

one far green hill we carry everywhere