Across the Dee / [Words by] B. L. Tallemache [music by] C. Whitney Coombs

Lift me, brother, into the swing into the swing/The hedge is high, I cannot see the blue Welsh hills,/I cannot see the blue Welsh hills where harpers sing/Across the swiftly flowing Dee, across the Dee,/Across the swiftly flowing Dee./I have a harp, the strings are dumb to other ears, the strings are dumb to other ears, but not to me./I’ll sing until the sound shall come from old Welsh harps,/I’ll sing until the sound shall come across the Dee,/Across the swiftly flowing Dee./Lift me, brother, and swing me high,/Above the hedge that I may see/The blue Welsh hills, and sunset sky/Across the swiftly flowing Dee./Life me, brother, and swing me high,/That I may see the sunset sky,/I cleave the air like bird on wing, like bird on wing/Blue hills and golden clouds I see, and music floats,/I cleave the air like bird on wing, like bird on wing./Swing me, swing me, swing me high,/I hear the harps,/I hear the harps,/I hear the harps across the Dee,/I hear Welsh harps across the Dee.