Where the yarrow grows
(Where the yarrow)
(Where the yarrow)
(Where the yarrow)
Where the yarrow grows!
Find me beneath the grove
Home, home, home, home!
The hills were left quiet and I am in hiding
They’ve forgotten, they’ve forgotten
I do not want to see
I could hear and that’s enough
The clashing of the hoards
Hoof by hoof, horn by horn
Raging song and an encore
I could barely speak
I could only hum a tune
And with that I am met with a chorus I am soon
Sought and safe behind a wing
My farewells to the fields
To the man made of straws
To my name
To the hills