The Green Hills of Earth

Spaceport 6 clear for Blastoff, stand by for final warning, Spaceport 6 clear for Blastoff, stand by for final warning. From the harsh, bright soil of Luna, To whose sattens rain borings, In the hearts of lonely space men, Is a longing voice that sings.

Let the cup I hold be empty, let there be no joy no mercy, Tell it be the day that I'm on my way, To the cool green hills of earth, To the cool green hills of earth.

The CBS Radio Workshop. dedicated to man's imagination, the theater of the mind. Today we challenge that imagination with the green hills of earth. Original story, Robert Heinlein, radio adaptation, Raper Lewis, music, Clark Carrington, star, Everett Sloan.

This is the story of Risling. Riesling, no first name, no middle initial. By vocation he was one of the best jetmen who ever worked his crew aboard the early cargo rockets that supplied the planets deep in outer space.

His avocation? Well, anyone born in the 21st century, I'm sure, has quoted his poems, sung his songs. Even with luck, heard him singing them himself in some wind-torn forsaken tavern on the borders of a spaceport somewhere out there beyond the stars.

What's the matter, Rice-Ling? To get your own miserable words gone with the sun? No. I seem to have a strange, parched feeling in my throat, induced by a sudden lack of liquid refreshments. Hey, let's have another round over here and give Rice-Ling a double.

Rice-Ling was no beauty, believe me, with his greased, smeared, tethered space coveralls. His hair looked as though he'd been caught in the backwash of a jet and he had a permanent case of sun hitch that he scratched continually.