Stan Rogers — Lookout Hill

There's a spot far away you all know well A place that's called the Lookout Hill Where the 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 Good - bye my friends, it's there I'll die There's a spot far away you all know well A place that's called the Lookout Hill Where the rabbits hop and the wildcats yell How I love that place no one can tell