My farewells to the fields

Where the yarrow grows

(Where the yarrow)

(Where the yarrow)

(Where the yarrow)

Where the yarrow grows

Find me beneath the grove

(Home)

(Home)

(Home)

(Home)

Home!

The hills were left quiet and I am in hiding

They've forgotten, they've forgotten

I do not want to see

I could hear and that's enough, the clashing of the hoards

Hoof by hoof, horn by horn

Raging song and an encore

I could barely speak, I could only hum a tune

And with that I am met with a chorus I am soon

Sought and safe behind a wing, my farewells to the fields

To the man made of straws

To my name

To the hills!