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_ up on 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_