To the valley, the meadow, the mountain we hie,
To cull each fair flow’ret that grows.
Chorus.—From our merry, &c.
Solo, Second Voice.
Though humble our cot on the mountain may be,
A life of contentment we live;
We sigh not for wealth, from its cares we are free,
For wealth cannot happiness give.
Chorus.—From our merry, &c.
