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Gordon Smith
Come by the hills to the land where fancy is free, And stand where the peaks meet the sky and the lochs meet the sea, Where the rivers run clear and the bracken is warm in the sun. Ah, the cares of tomorrow can wait 'til this day is done. Come by the hills to the land where life is a song, And sing while the birds fill the air with their joy all day long, Where the trees sway in time and even the wind sings in tune. Ah, the cares of tomorrow can wait 'til this day is done. Come by the hills to the land where legend remains, Where stories of old stir the heart and may yet come again, Where the past has been lost and the future has still to be won. Ah, the cares of tomorrow must wait 'til this day is done.
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