An old man in a rockin' chair by a cabin door
Was talkin' to a stranger he'd never soon before
He spoke softly to the man and told him of his past
And told him what he'd like to do if this day was his last
If today was the last day I'd walk among these hills
I'd walk by mother's grave and smell the daffodills
I'd look around for the old oak tree where I used to play
And think about the good times before I go away
A whisper from a wintering pine defend my memories still
The early blossom of a flower around the water wheel
The fields a growin' in the spring, the harvest in the fall
But the memories of my mountain home are the dearest of them all
* Refrain