| The Rolling Hills Of The Border
Chorus
When I die, bury me low,
Where I can hear the bonny Tweed flow,
A sweeter place I never did know,
Than the rolling hills o’ the border
I
I ha’e travelled far and wide,
Seen the Hudson and seen the Clyde,
I’ve courted by Loch Lomondsside
but I dearly love the border
When I die, bury me low,
Where I can hear the bonny Tweed flow,
A sweeter place I never did know,
Than the rolling hills o’ the border
II
Often I ha’e mind o’ the day
Wi’ my lass, I strolled by the Tay,
But all its beauty fades away
Among the hills o’ the border
When I die, bury me low,
Where I can hear the bonny Tweed flow,
A sweeter place I never did know,
Than the rolling hills o’ the border
III
There’s a certain peace of mind
Bonnie lasses there you’ll find
Men so sturdy, men so kind
Among the hills o’ the border
When I die, bury me low,
Where I can hear the bonny Tweed flow,
A sweeter place I never did know,
Than the rolling hills o’ the border |
The Rolling Drills Of Otsego
(A cautionary ballad)
Chorus
When I die, bury me low,
Where I can hear the Susquehanna flow,
A sweeter place I never did know,
Than the rolling hills o’ Otsego.
I
I ha’e travelled far and wide,
Seen the Hudson and the Delaware wide,
I’ve courted by the Briar Creekside
And I dearly love Otsego.
When I die, bury me low,
Where I can hear the gas pipes blow,
A louder roar I never did know,
From the rolling drills o’ Otsego.
II
Now when I view the tragedy
From Cabot, Halliburton, and Lenape,
All the beauty fades away
Because of the drills o’ Otsego.
When I die, bury me low,
Where I smell the gas pits flow,
A nastier stench I never did know,
From the rolling drills o’ Otsego.
III
There’s a certain kind of hell
When your heritage you sell
For a piece of a filthy gas well
Among the drills o’ Otsego
When I die, bury me low,
Where I can hear the Susquehanna flow,
A sweeter place I never did know,
Than the rolling hills o’ Otsego.
Brian Foley, Feb 19, 2009
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