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I'm wandering back tonight
To visions calm and bright,
As I sit alone within the firelight's glow;
To the time when boyish dreams
Were tinged with rosy dreams,
In the merry, merry days of long ago.
One scene amongst them all
With pleasure I recall,
As memory lingers fondly with me still;
Oh! The pleasure and the joy
When I was a laughing boy,
And went sliding over Granny Bates' Hill.
I see the berg-lined shore
My island home once more,
I tread the glassy snow-slopes once again;
Tho' I've wandered far away
Across the rolling sea,
To find a home beside the hills of Maine.
The cherry-cheeked boys
The girls with romping noise,
Far up thro' memory's vale they throng at will;
I see the hilside white
I see the moonlight;
I see the slides of Granny Bates' Hill.
The snows of sixty years
Have tinged and streaked my hair,
I've many brawny sons to manhood grown;
I see the churchyard still
Beneath the pine-clad hill,
Where after death my body will be thrown.
But in the brands tonight
I trail a vision bright,
A scene that makes my inmost spirit thrill;
And I waft a backward sigh
For the youthful days gone by,
When sliding over Granny Bates' Hill.
