I've heard about this all my life,
   my Home in Beulah Land;
Those pearly gates and streets of gold,
   all formed by Your own hand.

I hear You've built a mansion there,
   a special place for me;
Its on a hill with greenest grass,
   beside a Crystal Sea!

Now Lord don't take this wrong at all,
   I'm thankful for all things;
But since I'm just a country boy,
   a mansions not my dream.

A little place, just outside town,
   surrounded by huge trees;
The sounds of nature at my door,
   would be morefit for me!

A broken down old picket fence;
   with squeaky wooden gates;
A muddy road not travel worn,
    to me would five star rate!

A tire swing hung 'round a branch,
   the buzz of honeybees;
A bed so full of daffodils,
   a few small dogwood trees.

A cozy place to call my Home,
   a noisy front porch swing;
No more I'd want for all of time,
   but place to hang my wings!

You see My Lord, not hard to please,
    I'm just a simple man;
A cabin made from Heavn'ly logs,
   now THAT'D be Glory Land!