Around and around the emerald mountains
Behind me
Baggage bouncing up and down
Tall grass sways by my feet
Silent and stained with mud
Like the hair of an imprisoned queen
Across the stony brae
There
Stand a shabby brick house
Lonely and serene

Through the cracks
Of the wooden door
Came a sound of angels
Jingling like bells in the summer wind
Oh
The laughter of our mountain angels
Fly into my heart
Like rays of sunshine

There
Three little children
In worn out clothes
Running around like birds of spring
The sweltering ground kissing their bare feet
The bleak walls echoing their laughter

Their hands have never touched the pages of ancient books
Nor have their eyes seen the dazzle of technologies
But oh
On their swarthy faces
Smiles of happiness shine in the sun
Glittering like blooming flowers
In the vigorous spring

Look at them
Oh
The children in the high mountains