Nestled in among the mountains, in the heart of Tennessee
There's a cluster of cabins, set down by Charit Creek
And I swear by the "Arches" and the autumn's fiery leaves
There is nothing as enduring as the hills of Tennessee.
Many stories, even legends, of the life these hills demand
How folks lived, and loved, and died here -
An attempt to tame this land.
But the Markers in the graveyard are a testimony to
How the mountains will remain here after you and I are through.
In flat places on the ridgeline, where cornfields might have stood
There the beeches and the hemlock have reclaimed the land for wood.
And magnolia and maple on craggy ledges grow
As unafected by the seasons as the gurgling brook below.
All the hoofprints on the trails will be washed away next spring
When the goldseal and dogwood are a-blooming once again
And the dusty trails remind me, as the old dark willow weeps
How the mountains will remain here, majestic, cool, and steep.
As I walk up to the "Lookout", 'bout a mile or so away
I peel off a layer of flannel, now the sun has warmed the day.
Gazing out across the meadow, just as far as I can see
There is nothing as enduring, as the hills of Tennessee.
There is nothing more magnificent than the hills of Tennessee.