Farewell you northern hills, you mountains all goodbye

Moorland and stony ridges, crags and peaks goodbye

Glyder Fach farewell, Cul Beag, Scafell, cloud-bearing Suilven

Sun warmed rock and the cold of Bleaklow’s frozen sea

The snow and the wind and the rain of hills and mountains

Days in the sun and the tempered wind and the air like wine

And you drink and you drink till you’re drunk

On the joy of living

 

Farewell to you my love, my time is almost done

Lie in my arms once more until the darkness comes

You filled all my days, held the night at bay, dearest companion

Years pass by and they’re gone with the speed of birds in flight

Our life like the verse of a song heard in the mountains

Give me your hand then love and join your voice with mine

We’ll sing of the hurt and pain and the joy of living.

 

Farewell to you my chicks, soon you must fly alone,

Flesh of my flesh, my future life, bone of my bone

May your wings be strong, may your days be long, safe be your journey

Each of you bears inside of you the gift of love

May it bring you light and warmth and the pleasure of giving

Eagerly savour each new day and the taste of its mouth

Never lose sight of the thrill and the joy of living.

 

Take me to some high place of heather, rock and ling,

Scatter my dust and ashes, feed me to the wind

So that I will be part of the curlew’s cry and the soaring hawk,

The blue milkwort and the sundew hung with diamonds

I’ll be riding the gentle wind that blows through your hair

Reminding you how we shared in the joy of living

 

Ewan MacColl (1915 – 1989)