Walking high, walking bold
I carried the loads until I got old
Hold me job, hold me broken back
I went to and fro my steep little path
Come ye mountain winds
Drag me away from here
To a place where I will belong
For I’ve always been your son
Working hard, working strong
I wrung out of stones everything that I got
Got me haggard face and I got sore hands
I dig me ditch there in the sand
Come ye storming seas
Bring me far away from here
To a place where I will belong
For I’ve always been your son
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
Standing proud, standing tall
In those days the harshness of winter befalls
All is sown and the hard toil is done
Rest on the snow mantled ground for a new spring will come
Come ye northern breezes
Bring me far away from here
To a place where I will belong
For I’ve always been your son
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
When the gales calm down
And the rain soothingly melts the floes
I’ll be standing there with the same hope and faith
That the first sun of March will come
That the first sun of March will come
Come ye rains of spring
Always different, always the same
Kiss the land where I do belong
For I’ve always been your son
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
And I will get along
And come out of the storm
And I will get along
And come out of the storm