Words: Tracy Rogalla
Music: trad.

  There was a soldier, a Dorsai soldier
  Who wandered faraway, and soldiered faraway.
  There was none bolder, with good broad shoulders,
  Who fought in many a frat and won.
  He'd seen the glory and told the story
  Of battles glorious, and deeds victorious,
  But now he's sighing, his heart is crying
  To leave those green hills of his home.
  Chorus: Because these green hills are no highland hills
          Nor the island hills, they're not my land's hills,
          And fair as these green foreign hills may be,
          They are not the hills of home.
  And now the soldier, the Dorsai soldier,
  Who wandered faraway and soldiered faraway;
  These leaves are falling and death is calling
  And he will fade away from this far land.
  He called his piper; his trusty piper,
  And bade him sound a lay, a song sad to play
  Upon a hillside; a Dorsai hillside,
  To call him back home from the stars.
  And now the soldier; the Dorsai soldier,
  Will wander far no more, and soldier far no more.
  And on a hillside; a Dorsai hillside,
  You'll see a piper play the soldier home.
  The bugle's cease now. He is at peace now,
  Far from those green hills of Foralie.

Material copyrighted © to the author - Brought to you by the Dorsai Irregulars [www.di.org]