Let us build our lodge on a hill Where we can touch the man in the moon. And sleep to the song of the whip-poor-will, His lonely, sonorous tune.
Let us build our lodge on this hill So we may view the world below And capture sunbeams as they spill Through dancing shadows to the river's flow.
Let us build our lodge where A traveler on his weary way Finds a cup to toss, a loaf to share, A moment of rest in his lengthening day.
Our lodge on a hill must be A warm and welcoming home, A place where birds fly wild and free And small woods creatures roam.
To regard me in peace, without fear, I shall linger entranced and still In cathedral of fir and pine, here In Our castle, our lodge on a hill.