16kps
The Green Hills of Dawn
A song written by Paul Hall in Paris in 1980. (c) 1987
It's about the nine months I spent in the highlands of Northern Scotland, in a mountainous region called Duckgarret, just over a ridge from Lock Ness, where the neon lights of Inverness could be seen gleaming in the distance at night under the dancing Aurora Borealis. But in reality it wasn't just Inverness, but all the cities I was to visit in my travels the lament is about. Cities like London, Paris, Jakarta, Sydney, Auckland, New York, L.A., Houston, Boston, Chicago, Caracas, Suva, and many others besides where I sang the song but all were too busy to listen.
16kps mp3
The green hills of dawn
have the rainbows passing on.
Passing in the golden haze
as the sheep would graze
beyond.
I stood there
on a glowing hill
wondering when the
world would end.
When I knew
that I had
my song,
I had to leave
my friend
and go unto
the Low Lands
where the people team
and the neon lights
in the distance gleam.
It's a concrete prison
where the people go
to escape
the rain and snow.
And I went there
to sing to them
my song
from the glowing hills
by the rainbows' bend.
Sing them my song
written by my friend
the wind.
The wind got so strong
on those glowing hills
it would speak
through the speckled frays
of the heather
and kiss
the mountainsides
where the flocks
of sheep would graze.
I listened to the song,
but then,
one fine day,
in the distance
he showed me
that city down there
and said
"Son, you've got to
go away.
And go unto
the low lands
where the people team
and the neon lights
in the distance gleam.
It's a concrete prison
where the people go
to escape
the rain and snow."
So I went there
to sing to them
my song
from the glowing hills
where the rainbows bend.
Sing them my song
written by my friend
the wind.
For the sunlight
would mix
with the rain drops
and make pretty
rainbow curls,
where the aurora borealis flows
in glowing nightly swirls.
And the colored stars
would twinkle
in infinity beyond
the heather
of the highlands
where the hills
would glow at dawn.
Above the low lands
where the people team
and the neon lights
in the distance gleam.
It's a concrete prison
where the people go
to escape
the rain and snow.
And I went there
to sing to them
my song
from the glowing hills
by the rainbow's bend.
But no one would listen.
I think I'll go and sing
to the wind.
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Copyright and Phonorecord (c) (p) 1987 by Paul A. L. Hall. All rights reserved.