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An Emigrant Song
O, FROM Box Hill and Leith Hill the prospects are fair, | |
| You look o’er the sweet vales of green Surrey there, | |
| And than Surrey’s dear green vales you never saw lie | |
| Or sweeter or greener, beneath the blue sky; | |
| O, the green hills of Surrey, the sweet hills of Surrey, | 5 |
| The dear hills of Surrey, I ’ll love till I die. | |
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| O, Farnham, green Farnham, what hop-grounds are there | |
| That with Farnham’s fair hop-grounds can ever compare! | |
| And what pleasure it were once again but to lie | |
| On Guildford’s green hillsides beneath the blue sky! | 10 |
| O, the green hills of Surrey, the sweet hills of Surrey, | |
| The dear hills of Surrey, I ’ll love till I die. | |
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| O, Dorking is pleasant, and Dorking is green, | |
| And sweet are the woods and the walks of Deepdene, | |
| But for Dorking’s sweet meadows in vain I must sigh, | 15 |
| And Deepdene’s green woods will no more meet my eye; | |
| But the green woods of Surrey, the sweet woods of Surrey, | |
| The dear woods of Surrey, I ’ll love till I die. | |
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| O, Kent has fair orchards; no pleasanter show | |
| Than her apple-trees blooming in April, I know, | 20 |
| Save the orchards round Reigate, sweet Reigate, that lie | |
| With their red and white blossoms so fair ’neath the sky. | |
| O, the green fields of Surrey, the sweet fields of Surrey, | |
| The dear fields of Surrey, I ’ll love till I die. | |
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| O Surrey, green Surrey, that I had been born | 25 |
| To a farm ’mongst your fields, with its hops and its corn, | |
| That I ’d not been forced far, my fortune to try, | |
| Across the wide sea, ’neath a far foreign sky! | |
| O, the green vales of Surrey, the sweet vales of Surrey, | |
| The dear vales of Surrey, I ’ll love till I die. | 30 |
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| Minnesota’s green prairies have plenty for all, | |
| And comfort and wealth here my own I can call, | |
| Yet often and often my thoughts, with a sigh, | |
| Far to Surrey’s green hills, o’er the wide sea will fly; | |
| O, the green hills of Surrey, the sweet hills of Surrey, | 35 |
| The dear hills of Surrey, I ’ll love till I die. | |
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| But sighing avails not, and wishing is vain, | |
| And the home of my childhood I ’ll ne’er see again; | |
| The acres my labors made mine here, I ’ll try | |
| To make dear to my heart, as they ’re fair to my eye; | 40 |
| But the green hills of Surrey, the sweet hills of Surrey, | |
| The dear hills of Surrey, I ’ll love till I die. | |
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| ’Neath the park limes in Betchworth, ’t is there I would stroll; | |
| O, to walk but once more by the clear winding Mole! | |
| But no more shall I hear the soft breeze rustle by | 45 |
| Through those lime-tops, no more by the Mole I shall lie; | |
| But the clear streams of Surrey, the sweet streams of Surrey, | |
| The dear streams of Surrey, I ’ll love till I die. | |
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| By the gray ivied church, where my father is laid, | |
| Where my mother lies with him, my grave should be made, | 50 |
| But, far from them, my bones, when my time comes, must lie | |
| ’Neath the rain and the snow of a strange foreign sky; | |
| O, the green hills of Surrey, the sweet vales of Surrey, | |
| The dear fields of Surrey, I ’ll love till I die. | |
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