There's a wh[A]ite oak on the hill at my o[D]ld clinch mountain h[A]ome. That stands straight and true on that w[B7]indy spur a[E]lone And wh[A]en the cold wind blows it's ro[D]ots they bend and m[A]oan But when the storm have passed it straightens [E]up and goes [A]on (Chorus) [A]Lord let me be like that wh[D]ite oak on the h[A]ill And help...