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Chorus:- There's snow on the hills and frost in the gullies,
Where winters are keen and the air tastes like wine.
My heart feels the pull of the wind in the tussock,
Calling me back to the mountains again.
The scent of the speargrass is drawing my heart in,
As I long again for the High Country air.
The wind in the tussock is calling me homewards,
To the valleys and ridges that I love so dear.
There's a fragrance in the tussock fire as it's burning,
Wisps of smoke curling up to the sky.
The dew in the dawning of a clear spring morning,
As the sun warms the tops all white skiffed with snow.
There's pleasure in working the snow crested mountains,
In boiling a billy and watching stars fall,
To be lost in a world remote from the city,
With the mist far below like a great rolling sea.
When the old man Nor-wester blows hot down the valley,
Reminds me of a girl that I knew long ago.
Her hair was as fair as the snowgrass in summer,
Breaking my heart when she drifted away.
There are dreams in the twilight of long autumn evenings,
When the embers of memory still flicker and fade.
The tussock aglow with the deep golden sunset,
Gently caressed by the evening breeze.
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