My farewells to the fields

Where the yarrow grows (Where the yarrow) (Where the yarrow) (Where the yarrow) Where the yarrow grows Find me beneath the grove (Home) (Home) (Home) (Home) Home! The hills were left quiet and I am in hiding They've forgotten, they've forgotten I do not want to see I could hear and that's enough, the clashing of the hoards Hoof by hoof, horn by horn Raging song and an encore I could barely speak, I could only hum a tune And with that I am met with a chorus I am soon Sought and safe behind a wing, my farewells to the fields To the man made of straws To my name To the hills!