Upon the bitter green, she walked the hills above the town,
echo to her footsteps as soft as Eider down.
Waiting for her master to kiss away her tears, waiting through the years,
Bitter Green, they called her, walking in the sun, loving everyone that she met.
Bitter Green, they called her, waiting in the sun, waiting for someone to take her home.

Some say he was a sailor who died away at sea,
some say he was a prisoner who never was set free.
Lost upon the ocean, he died there in the mist, dreaming of her kiss,
Bitter Green, they called her, walking in the sun, loving everyone that she met.
Bitter Green, they called her, waiting in the sun, waiting for someone to take her home.

But now the Bitter Green is gone, the hills have turned to rust,
there comes a weary stranger, his tears fall in the dust.
Kneeling by the churchyard in the autumn mist, dreaming of a kiss,
Bitter Green, they called her, walking in the sun, loving everyone that she met.
Bitter Green, they called her, waiting in the sun, waiting for someone to take her home.