WHEREVER THE MOUNTAIN PATH WILL LEAD

I've never been the roving kind,
Always set my hand to the plough
But the hills keep calling me away,
And I hear them calling now.
The wind blows cold on that mountain top,
And the way seems far from here
But the ancient ones are beckoning..
To draw near

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So I will stand where the ravens gather,
Run with the mountain hare
Fly with the golden eagle, high above
And I'll roam with the highland deer,
Walk where the streams are clear
I will go wherever, the mountain path will lead..

The marching years may pass me by,
Though I try to mark my place
And when my working days are done,
Will I leave behind no trace?
But time stands still on that mountain top,
And heaven is close at hand
With the silent ones, I'll be watching out..
O'er the land.

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INSTRUMENTAL

CHORUS