In my memories again I am strolling along,
Where the birds in the treetops are singing their song;
To the land of my birthplace, its valleys and dells,
Yes, I'm strolling along on the Old Flat Rock Hills.
Yes, strolling down windgaps along by the shore,
There's a church on the hillside and Bowring's grand store;
To the base of the river as it in the sea spills,
It's nice to be there on the Old Flat Rock Hills.
To that old familiar coast and the valleys and dells,
To the gay garden parties on the old Chapel hills;
Where the happy boys and girls they turn out for the thrills,
Just to roam and to stroll in the Old Flat Rock Hills.
From the Big River bridge on an evening in June,
To enjoy the village dances by the light of the moon;
To the merry sounds of laughter and the old time quadrilles,
It's among my happy memories on the Old Flat Rock Hills.
O, the scenes they have changed but that old bridge still stands,
It's the same as when we strolled right there hand in hand;
With its old stone foundation supporting it still,
And the waters still run on the Old Flat Rock Hills.
It's the land of my birthplace, it's my old happy home,
Down there, I've got friends who are second to none;
May I live once again to see her valleys and dells,
And to stroll once again on the Old Flat Rock Hills.
Now your sons and your daughters, they have sailed o'er the sea,
In search of some adventure in the land of the free;
In the land of America, its pleasures and thrills,
But their hearts they left behind them on the Old Flat Rock Hills.