When day is done and work is through I seek the old familiar view Those faithful confidants of stone Truer friends I've never known These Old Dark Hills On which sore eyes can rest These Old Dark Hills Ridge after ridge to the west I hear the wind from a distant time Blowing lonesome through the pines From when the ancient wilderness Was free of uninvited guests Father of the timber and the coal Mother to the music of my soul Sister of the quiet and serene Brother to the land of broken dreams Oh, their grace and the majesty Speak silently to me And hold my gaze lovingly How I ever long to see