There's a white oak on the hillside of my old Clinch Mountain home
Stands so straight and true on that windy spur alone
Then when the cold wind blows it's roots bend and moan
When the storm is passed it's straightens up and goes on

You know the troubles of this life, Sometimes get me down
When I look for friends there not always around
Then the lord seems to say, Get up and do my will
And always remember the white oak on the hill