Mockin' Bird Hill
When the sun in the mornin' peeps over the hill,
And kisses the roses 'round my window sill;
Then my heart fills with gladness when I hear the trill,
Of the birds in the tree tops on Mockin' Bird Hill.
It gives me a trill,
To wake up in the mornin' to the
Mockin' birds trill;
There's peace and goodwill;
You're welcome as the flowers
On Mockin' Bird Hill.
Got a three-cornered plow and an acre to till,
And a mule that I bought for a ten dollar bill;
There's a tumble-down shack and a rusty old mill,
But it's my home sweet home up on Mockin' Bird Hill.
When it's late in the evening, I climb up the hill,
And survey my kingdom while everything's still:
Only me and the sky and an old whip-poor-will,
Sing-in' songs in the twilight on Mockin' Bird Hill.