Berkshire Hills

I was raised in Massachusetts
On the farm where I was born
From the time I was a young lad
To the fields I was sworn
Before our corn could go to market
It was stolen from the mill
And sent to Mother England
From here in the Berkshire hills
So when I heard there’d be a rising
I put on a uniform
Slept barefoot in the mud
Beneath the thunder storms
In war there is no glory
Just friends and comrades killed
Shattered lives and broken homs
Here in the Brkshire hills
Then began the nightmare
All over once again
The revolution’s debtor’s prisons
Filled with good upstanding men
We said to hell with King John Adams
Of this farce we’d had our fill
And we set our sights on liberty
Here in the Berkshire hills