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.



CHORUS:



Tra-la-la twittle-dee-dee-dee

It gives me a trill,

To wake up in the mornin' to the

Mockin' birds trill;

Tra-la-la twittle-dee-dee-dee

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.



CHORUS



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.