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 