Where the yarrow grows
Find me beneath the grove

The hills were left quiet
And I am in hiding
They've forgotten, they've forgotten
I do not want to see
I could hear and that's enough
The clashing of the hoards
Hoof by hoof, horn by horn
Raging song and an encore

I could barely speak
I could only hum a tune
And with that I am met
With a chorus I am soon
Sought and safe behind a wing
My farewells to the fields
To the man made of straws
To my name
To the hills