| There ain’t much that’s left here that ain’t all run down
|
| Gone all the echoes of old familiar sound
|
| Families are scattered, parted, and gone
|
| Left a lot of good things to wither away back home
|
| Can’t you feel those hills around you?
|
| Can’t you feel that touch of home?
|
| And don’t you wish you’d never gone?
|
| There are some things memories can’t bring home
|
| Hills of home, hills of home
|
| Families scattered off and gone
|
| These old hills that have been passed by
|
| Well, they’ve seen their share of leavin' in their time
|
| Old familiar dirt roads wind through the piney glade
|
| Where all the longing of childhood dreams were made
|
| Where we passed the mossy mounds where I could run and play
|
| Never a care to cross my mind all the livelong day
|
| Yes, they’ve seen their share of leavin' in their time |