Give me the land where the wild thyme grows, o'er the heathery dales among
Where sol's own flower with crimson eye, creeps the sunburnt banks along
Where the tor hangs o'er the dell, while it's pinnacles pierce the sky
And's it's foot's laved in waters pure of the lively murmuring wye
Give me a land where the purple heather
The thyme and bilberry grow together

Oh, where on earth is another land, so green, so fine, so fair,
Can any within old england's bounds with this heathery land compare
The mountain air and crystal springs, where health has made her throne
The river's swell and the bright cascade, belong to this, the land of song
Give me a land where the purple heather
The thyme and bilberry grow together