My Little Welsh Home

I am dreaming of the mountains of my home
Of the mountains where in childhood I would roam
I have dwelt ‘neath southern skies
Where the summer never dies
But my heart is on the mountains of my home

I can see the little homestead on the hill
I can hear the magic music of the Rhyl
There is nothing to compare
With the love that once was there
In the lonely little homestead on the hill.

I can see the quiet churchyard down below
Where the mountain breezes wander to and fro
And when God my soul will keep
It is there I want to sleep
With those dear old folks that loved me long ago