THE HILLSIDE IN SEPTEMBER

I have seen the sunrise off the banks of Newfoundland
Walked across the beaches of her brown and purple sand
Sat and watched the maple turning scarlet in the sun
On the hillside in September.

Sat and boiled me kettle by a trickling little brook
And gazed out over country where I had to stop and look
Chopped a lot of timber that was straight without a limb
On the hillside in September.

When the partridgeberries are slightly touched by frost
You find me on the hillside I'll be there at any cost
I'll get away to those berries and I'll spend a little time
On the hillside in September.

If you come looking for me when the trees are turning red
The moose are getting rutty and the bears and gone to bed
You'll find me in contentment with a smile upon my face
On the hillside in September.

When me days are over and I'm filed away for good
I'll grab me old gray lunchbag and I'll go up in the woods
Spend forever gazing on the country that I love
From the hillside in September.

I have seen the sunrise off the banks of Newfoundland
Walked across the beaches of her brown and purple sand
Sat and watched the maple turning scarlet in the sun
On the hillside in September.