#00848
Lookout Hill (Stan Rogers)

There's a spot far away we all know well,
A place that's called the Lookout Hill;
Where rabbits hop and the wildcats yell,
How I love that place no one can tell.

There are trout streams there and moose and deer,
But you never lay eyes on a grizzly bear;
So take your pack upon your back,
And head your way up the Lookout track.

There'll be a time when I am old,
And my poor old bones are stiff and cold;
I'll head to the Lookout with the setting sun,
When I smell those spruce trees I'll feel young.

When the lakes are frozen and the brooks are high,
And you hear the owl in the moonlight cry;
I'll head to the Lookout with spirits high,
Goodbye, my friends, it's there I'll die.

There's a spot far away we all know well,
A place that's called the Lookout Hill;
Where rabbits hop and the wildcats yell,
How I love that place no one can tell.

####.... Lee Bushell (Stan Rogers' uncle) ....####
Recorded by Stan Rogers (For the Family - Stan Rogers, ©1983 Folk Tradition Records).

See more songs by Stan Rogers.


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