If the mountains could hold the wind
from the flowers in the glen,
and the birds could sing for all,
and the streets were never cold,
in the peaceful valley town of River’s Bend.
If the trees were left to grow,
and the flowers were there for all,
where the meandering river flows,
while we sit and watch the boats,
and no one picks the flowers in the glen.
If they all would come to see
the river and the trees,
the robin and the wren,
the flowers of the glen,
and the peaceful valley town of River’s Bend.