Past the first bend in the river Is another bend I can't see And the bend that keeps calling Is the bend that keeps hiding from me. Past the first hill on the desert Is another hill I can't see And the hill that keeps hiding Is the hill that keeps calling to me. In the cottonwood by the river A mourning dove calls his mate He has true love to give her But love for me must wait. Till I've traveled every river And each desert hill I have climbed If I find love to my liking I'll leave the river's bend far behind...