I grew up enjoying days on my grandparents farm
Their small 1830's home had tons of grand old charm

I would spend my days hiking my grandpa's home made trail
And love to listen to grandpa's talk of his many young days tale

Summer months spent catching minnows in the creek
And grandpa showing home movies from the past week

The evenings of summer grandpa would tell stories of ghosts
And he would talk of his strange stories, of those he'd boast

I once heard the voices of four gruff big men in uniform talking
A plan to get their horses, down the hallway they were marching

I'd lay in the grass on a quilt looking up at the stars or blue sky
In the evening catch lightening bugs in the muggy evenings of July

He talked of the former owner Baker Martin who died of old age
Because of him that one room felt cold and damp, but not of rage

On his farm I would gather eggs and many chickens I'd feed
Then off to to slop the hogs and cattle it was my good deed

I'd walk picking up Edison Battery Oil bottles on the RR Track
Glass telegraph insulators and RR spikes, where they never lack

In the winter we would ice skate for hours on grandpa's pond
And the summer we'd boat and fish, of many days I'm very fond

With the laundry I'd help grandma hang on the line
When were dry they smelled just like fresh cut pine

Grandpa would let the all the horses and cows out in the morning
And they'd run off to favorite places on the farm without warning

I'd head to the barn to play with all the kittens and cats
They could see me coming, through the barns wide slats

We'd also work to plant the many tasty crops for fall
Planting corn, beans, potatoes, and other veggies for all

Stringing beans, picking corn, tomatoes, and other foods
To put away to soothe the families very hungry moods

The chickens, pigs and cows were sent out to co op be prepared
Cut the tree's into firewood for our family that would be shared

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