I used to wake up in the morning to a country radio the smell of coffee in the air and momma humming soft and low.Papa off to work at sun up to his job down at the mill. life was like a holliday up there on Gingles Hill.
I can hear the school bells ringing walking down a country lane the feel of sand between my toe’s and the smell of warm spring rain.In the shadows of the evening we could hear the whip-o-will’s how I long to live again up there on Gingles Hill.#
Sometimes at night when the wind was right from the valley down below.we could hear a fiddle play country music soft and low.in the early morning sunshine the mocking birds would trill.and we lived close to heaven up there on Gingles Hill.#
When my life on earth is over and they lay me down to rest take me back to Gingles Hill the home that I love best.bury me neath a weeping willow so I can hear the whipp-0-will and God will find me fast asleep up there on