Yellow sands and green pastures,
Mountain paths, with bubbling brooks of laughter.
The smell of honeysuckle in the air,
And bees flying everywhere.
Sunshine bright, as a morning star,
Takes me back, oh, so far, when I was a child,
Chasing butterflies, through the fields of wildflowers,
Seeing windmills, that looked like towers
The feel of the cool breeze on my face,