There's a path that
leads from my door,
through the garden gate,
to the lane that runs
through the field of corn,
to the road that goes to the
town where I was born,
onto the highway
Then down in the valley
and over the mountain to you
Summer and fall I answer the call
Winter and spring I make my way
Singing to the lane
that runs through the field of corn
To the road that goes
to the town where I was born
Onto the highway and down in the valley
and over the mountain to you
There's a path that leads
from your door
Through the garden gate
to the lane that runs
through the field of corn
To the road that goes to the
town where you were born
Onto the highway and down in the valley
and over the mountain to me
Summer and fall you answer the call
Winter and spring you
make your way
Singing to the lane
that runs through the field of corn
To the road that goes to the
town where you were born
Onto the highway and down in the valley
and over the mountain to me
There's a path that leads
from my door
Through the garden gate
to the lane that runs
through the field of corn
To the road that goes
to the town where I was born
On to the highway,
then down in the valley
And over the mountain to you
Summer and fall, you answer the call
Winter and spring, I make my way
Singing to the lane
that runs through the field of corn
To the road that goes to the
town where you were born
Onto the highway and
down in the valley,
over the mountain to me,
over the mountain to you.