Give me the land where the wild thyme grows, o'er the heathery dales among Where sol's own flower with crimson eye, creeps the sunburnt banks along Where the tor hangs o'er the dell, while it's pinnacles pierce the sky And's it's foot's laved in waters pure of the lively murmuring wye Give me a land where the purple heather The thyme and bilberry grow together
Oh, where on earth is another land, so green, so fine, so fair, Can any within old england's bounds with this heathery land compare The mountain air and crystal springs, where health has made her throne The river's swell and the bright cascade, belong to this, the land of song Give me a land where the purple heather The thyme and bilberry grow together
