Mountaineer's Farewell or My Own Native State

A. W. AUNER, SONG PUBLISHER, 110 North 10th St., ab. Arch, Philadelphia.

Mountaineer’s Farewell, or my Own Native State.

I have come from the mountains of the old granite state,
Where the hills are so lofty, magnificent and great;
I have left kindred spirits in the land of the blest,
When I bade them adieu for the far distant west.
Oh, thy mountains! oh, thy valleys!
In my own native state.

Oh, thy hills and thy valleys are scared all to me,
No matter in what lands of other I may see;
I have viewed seenes as sunny, as fair and as smooth,
And I’ll think of the cottage that stands in the grove.
Oh, that homestead! oh, my childhood!
In my own native state.

When I think of the fair one who once was my pride,
As she roved among the mountains so closely by my side,
I will sigh for the days that never will come back,
For she sleeps on the shores of the bold Merrimack.
Oh, that loved one! oh, that grave yard
In my own native state.

A mother dear I have lost,—she has gone to t he grave,
She was the dearest blessing that God ever gave,
I will go to the spot where buried is the loved,
For I seem to hear her singing with the angels above.
Oh, my mother! I bless her ashes!
In my own native state.

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