When the leaves begin to fall,
My heart hears the familiar call,
To that lonely little graveyard,
On the hill.
So, I'll go there once again,
Because of love for my kin.
And as long as I live,
I surely will.
Time has made a change in me.
I'm not as spry as I used to be.
Soon, I too shall lie,
Beneath the cold, cold, ground.
But, I shall not be there for aye!
For come Resurrection Day,
I'll rise with Gabriel's trumpet sound!
Yes, I may soon be lying still,
In a graveyard on a hill.
But, only my body will be there!
When they place me beneath the sod,
My soul shall fly to God,
Where I shall dwell in sweet Heaven fair!
I'm just a pilgrim here on this earth,
A nomad by birth,
Seeking a much better land!
I have only one thing on my mind,
And one glorious day I'll find,
That beautiful country,
Built by God's own hand!
Robert F. Dotson © 2006