Lyrics

Up on the Hill

© 1995, Bar Scott ASCAP

Nothing seems to bother him
Nothing is so real as the leaves on the tree up on the hill
By night he sleeps so easily
Then by day, he roams the hill
On his way past the tree
He hears birds while they sing

And the leaves that form slowly after winter
Will later fall silent to the ground

Nothing seems so far away
Nothing is so dear
As the leaves on the tree up on the hill
I’ve put gates, forks and barriers
All along the wooded lane
That leads through the trees
Past the birds while they sing

And the leaves that form slowly after winter
Will later fall silent to the ground
Ah, ha

Nothing seems to bother him
Nothing is so real as the leaves on the tree up on the hill
He sees every leaf so clearly
He sees the forest from the trees
Why can’t it be me that I see when I sit up on the hill?

cause the leaves that form slowly after winter
Will later fall silent to the ground
the leaves that form so slowly after winter
Will later fall silent to the ground
Ah, ah