| I walk the High Hill tonight |
| It stands behind the town |
| It was golden in the autumn sky |
| As the sun was going down |
| I could not stay to answer |
| The man who rang my telephone |
| Cause when I hear the High Hill calling |
| I have to go alone |
| I climb alone the winding trail |
| Leave the town below |
| I wrap my woven blanket round me |
| Up here the wind can blow |
| The brighter stars come peeking through |
| A canopy of branches high |
| Out across the town lights glistening |
| I think I’m gonna fly |
| I am looking down from High Hill |
| I am looking down |
| On my four walls |
| In my small town |
| High |
| I’m standing high in windy dark |
| Above this amber glow |
| Glistening sea of shining lights |
| A half a mile below |
| And somewhere on that shining sea |
| A tiny light I call my own |
| I feel like I been too long sailing |
| I finally made it home |
| I am looking down from High Hill |
| I am looking down |
| My dream’s been found |
| In my old home town |
| I am looking down from High Hill |
| I am looking down from High Hill |
| I am looking down from high |