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Bryn Terfel
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My Little Welsh Home
I am dreaming of the mountains of my home of the mountains where in childhood I would roam I have dwelt 'neath southern skies where the summer never dies but my heart is in the mountains of my home
I can see the little homestead on the hill I can hear the magic music of the Urdd there is nothing to compare with the love that once was there in the lonely little homestead on the hill
I can see the quiet churchyard down below where the mountain breezes wander to and fro and when god my soul will keep it is there I want to sleep with those dear old folks that loved me long ago
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