When day is done and work is through
I seek the old familiar view
Those faithful confidants of stone
Truer friends I've never known
These Old Dark Hills
On which sore eyes can rest
These Old Dark Hills
Ridge after ridge to the west
I hear the wind from a distant time
Blowing lonesome through the pines
From when the ancient wilderness
Was free of uninvited guests
Father of the timber and the coal
Mother to the music of my soul
Sister of the quiet and serene
Brother to the land of broken dreams
Oh, their grace and the majesty
Speak silently to me
And hold my gaze lovingly
How I ever long to see