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My house is on a hill,
With beautiful clouds in the sky,
In the forest,
The way of my people.
I'm not rich or poor,
I'm strong,
Born on the hill,
Never have to please anyone.
Your house is in the city,
With a roof made of colorful tiles.
My house is in the forest,
With a roof made of leaves.
You like foreign songs,
I like the thai guitar.
Ting Ting Ta Ting Ting
I play for the forest.
The house on the hill, with no colorful lights.
No TV, no hot water,
No theaters, spas, or bars.
No Cola, Fanta, or Pepsi.
No steaks or oyster sauce.
People here like grilled rice patties.
No perfume or fancy things.
But whatever we have,
We share with you.
If you want rice,
You have to plow a field.
If you want fish,
You have to find a pond.
If you grow cotton,
You will have beautiful dresses.
If you want to win a lottery,
Sorry I can't help.
The house on the hill, with no colorful lights,
No TV, no tap water,
No theaters, spas, or bars.
No Cola, Fanta, or Pepsi.
No steaks or oyster sauce.
People here like grilled rice patties.
No perfume or fancy things.
But whatever we have,
We share with you.
Song by Charan Manopetch