There was a soldier, a Scottish soldier,
Who wandered far away
And soldiered far away.
There was none bolder,
With good broad shoulder.
He'd fought in many a fray
And fought and won.
He'd seen the glory,
He'd told the story
Of battles glorious and deeds victorious.
But now he's sighing,
His heart is crying
To leave those green hills of Tyrol.
Because those green hills are not highland hills
Or the island hills,
They're not my land's hills
And, fair as these green foreign hills may be,
They are not the hills of home.
And now this soldier, this Scottish soldier,
Who wandered far away
And soldiered far away,
Sees leaves are falling
And death is calling
And he will fade away in that far land.
He called his piper, his trusty piper,
And bade him sound a lay... a pibroch sad to play
Upon a hillside, a Scottish hillside
Not on those green hills of Tyrol.
Because those green hills are not highland hills
Or the island hills,
They're not my land's hills
And, fair as these green foreign hills may be,
They are not the hills of home.
And now this soldier, this Scottish soldier
Will wander far no more and soldier far no more
And on a hillside, a Scottish hillside
You'll see a piper play his soldier home.
He's seen the glory, he's told his story
Of battles glorious and deeds victorious
The bugles cease now, he is at peace now,
Far from those green hills of Tyrol.
Because those green hills are not highland hills
Or the island hills,
They're not my land's hills
And, fair as these green foreign hills may be,
They are not the hills of home.
Because those green hills are not highland hills
Or the island hills,
They're not my land's hills
And, fair as these green foreign hills may be,
They are not the hills of home.