Where is my home, among these mountains?
That stretch faded and indigo blue,
From sky to sky?
That night become dark, and offer refuge to
The wistful whisper;
The bitter cry?
Did I come here to live—or come back to die?
In these mountains that I loved
Oh, it’s still, it’s still unknown,
To me, where—where is my home.

Where is my home among these mountains?
Where I lived and where I grew,
And where I once knew
I needed to be
With you?
Now I go back, now I fly
To my home, among these mountains I loved
And say goodbye
To memories I cherished, and cry
What can be my home without you?

Where is my home, and my refuge?
Is it amongst these blue mountains
Of which they write and sing?
Of Shenandoah, what do I bring
With me?
What do I leave?
To what lengths does the heart deceive?
Is it home if I am here,
And still grieve?

Where is my home among these mountains
That I love
If I cannot love with you, if
God above
Painted the mountains of Appalachia a deep and melancholy blue
That means nothing to me, that offers no comfort
Without you?

Oh, Shenandoah, they long for you,
And your low mountains and your clear bright air,
But what can the lands that I love mean to me, that are home and home to me
If he that I love
Is never there?
Is my home still among these mountains that I know—
And if not—
Where?