The last five miles are winding winding ways,
As the bus turns the corners,
I remember the winter days,
Home, home on the range
Reflecting autumnal grandeur and grace,
Before you know'¦..
Behold ! the town itself, reveals,
At its own, the evergreen stature,
The Spiritual Presence of Nature
Majestic melodious mountains,
Blow The Highlanders March, of The Hundred Pipers.
As early as February
As fresh as May
When Spring awakes
and Apple blossoms call,
Soft snowflakes greet you,
Sinking and vanishing, As they fall;
Serenity intense, beauteous nature crisp and pure
White and sure;
Oh! Let me feast my eyes
On the beauty of my town,
Breathe in the sweet smell of pine,
Oh! Let me live the truthful moments
While they are there.
And let the freshness creep into my soul;

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