Dalszöveg
[Verse]
In the valley of Wooden Hills, where the pine trees sway,
Roberth rides his snowmobile on a cold winter’s day,
With his rifle in his hands and a keen, steadfast eye,
Chasing after moose in the clear, open sky.
[Verse 2]
The badgers in the backyard, they scurry and they hide,
As his dog starts howling, filling the woods with pride,
Roberth’s in his element, a legend pure and true,
Swinging his whiskey beneath a sky so blue.
[Chorus]
Roberth of the hills, a name in every tale,
From the snow-capped mountains to that winding trail,
With a rifle steady and a heart so bold,
The legend of Wooden Hills is worth its weight in gold.
[Verse 3]
Snowflakes dance around him as he tracks down the prey,
Through the silent forest, where he knows every way,
The scent of pine and whiskey lingers in the air,
Roberth’s name echoes, a spirit so rare.
[Verse 4]
Beside the flickering fire, stories are told,
Of a man with courage, a heart pure as gold,
Swinging his whiskey, letting out a cheer,
Roberth’s laughter echoes, bringing everyone near.
[Chorus]
Roberth of the hills, a name in every tale,
From the snow-capped mountains to that winding trail,
With a rifle steady and a heart so bold,
The legend of Wooden Hills is worth its weight in gold.