Jake Heggie - The Farms of Home

The farms of home lie lost in even
I see far off the steeple stand;
West and away from here to heaven
Still is the land

There if I go no girl will greet me
No comrade hollo from the hill
No dog run down the yard to meet me:
The land is still

The land is still by farm and steeple
And still for me the land may stay:
There I was friends with perished people
And there lie they