Green Hills of Tyrol - John McDermott
Intro: Am7 G7 F C
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There was a soldier, a Scottish soldier, who wandered far away and soldiered far away.
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There was none bolder, with good broad shoulders, he fought in many a fray, and fought and won.
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He's seen the glory, he's told the story, of battles glorious, and deeds victorious,
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But now he's sighing, his heart is crying, to leave those green fields of Tyrol.
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Because those green fields are not high-land hills, or the island hills, they're not my land's hills,
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And fair as these green foreign hills may be, they are not the hills of home.
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And now this soldier, this Scottish soldier, who wandered far away and soldiered far away,
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Sees leaves are falling and death is calling, and he will fade away, on that dark land.
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He called his piper, his trusty piper, and bade him sound a lay, a pi-broach sad to play,
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Upon a hillside a Scottish hillside, not on those green hills, of Tyrol.
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Because those green fields are not high-land hills, or the island hills, they're not my land's hills,
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And fair as these, green foreign hills may be, they are not the hills of home.
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And now this soldier, this Scottish soldier, who wanders far no more and soldiers far no more,
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Now on a hillside, a Scottish hillside, you'll see a piper play, this soldier home.
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He's seen the glory, he's told the story, of battles, glorious and deeds victorious,
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But he will cease now, he is at peace now, far from these green, hills of Tyrol.
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Because those green fields are not high-land hills, or the island hills, they're not my land's hills,
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And fair as these, green foreign hills may be, they are not the hills of home.
