When I was a little lad -
Sometimes I feel it still -
A yearning strange I always had,
To see beyond a hill.
What would I find?
It seemed, I must reach the other side.
And so, for many, many years,
I travelled far and wide.

Seeking things beyond the hills,
Seeking something new,
But always on the other side,
More hills came into view.
So I travelled on and on
And like the rolling stone,
No moss I gathered on my back
Nor much else did I own.

In my own home now I sit
And pass my idle time,
By thinking of the things I've seen
And putting them in rhyme.
But sometimes I grow restless,
My heart with longing fills,
And once again I get the urge
To see beyond the hills.

- Ernest Jack Sharpe