Up this hill we tread,
To the place of the dead.
We stand on top of the hill,
mourning those whom lie still.

Many once were clever,
We will remember them forever.
Now many secrets they keep,
They now peacfully sleep.

Up this hill we tread,
To the place of the dead.
We stand on top of the hill,
mourning those whom lie still.

We walk of the death lane,
our sadness is hard to explain.
We try to hide our gloom,
while thinking of those who came to doom.

Up this hill we tread,
To the place of the dead.
We stand on top of the hill,
mourning those whom lie still.