Walking high, walking bold I carried the loads until I got old Hold me job, hold me broken back I went to and fro my steep little path Come ye mountain winds Drag me away from here To a place where I will belong For I've always been your son Working hard, working strong I wrung out of stones everything that I got Got me haggard face and I got sore hands I dig me ditch there in the sand Come ye storming seas Bring me far away from here To a place where I will belong For I've always been your son And I will get along And come out of the storm And I will get along And come out of the storm And I will get along And come out of the storm And I will get along And come out of the storm Standing proud, standing tall In those days the harshness of winter befalls All is sown and the hard toil is done Rest on the snow mantled ground for a new spring will come Come ye northern breezes Bring me far away from here To a place where I will belong For I've always been your son And I will get along And come out of the storm And I will get along And come out of the storm And I will get along And come out of the storm And I will get along And come out of the storm When the gales calm down And the rain soothingly melts the floes I'll be standing there with the same hope and faith That the first sun of March will come That the first sun of March will come Come ye rains of spring Always different, always the same Kiss the land where I do belong For I've always been your son And I will get along And come out of the storm And I will get along And come out of the storm And I will get along And come out of the storm And I will get along And come out of the storm