Sun wakes up and shines upon the tips of Pennydarren
An old man lights his pipe and spends another day remembering
All the years and all the fears, just a sweating in a coal mine
Walking through the trees and feeling the breeze, and drinking till 8 or 9
Take me back to the hills
Take me back to South Wales
Take me back to the hills
Take me home
Standing in their doorways, like they do everyday, engaged in nosy chatter
A penny for the children, a shilling for the gas, and nothing else much matters
Mrs. Davis all alone, just a sitting by the fire
Her daughter died the whole town cried, around the funeral pyre