|
Past the first bend in the river |
|
Is another bend I can't see |
|
And the bend that keeps calling |
|
Is the bend that keeps hiding from me. |
|
Past the first hill on the desert |
|
Is another hill I can't see |
|
And the hill that keeps hiding |
|
Is the hill that keeps calling to me. |
|
In the cottonwood by the river |
|
A mourning dove calls his mate |
|
He has true love to give her |
|
But love for me must wait. |
|
Till I've traveled every river |
|
And each desert hill I have climbed |
|
If I find love to my liking |
|
I'll leave the river's bend far behind... |