My house is on top of a hill
Under a roof of cogon thatch
Unmindful of ills, it stands still
High up there, the breezes to catch.
It rest among the tall, green trees
Where the air is balmy and cool,
At dawn, at eve, how sweet the breeze!
Whisp' ring peace to my troubled soul.
For city house I won't trade it
Tho it be bare of things to own,
Mine's plain living without taint
In this house I call my Home.
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