Grew up on a dirt road,
just across a hill.
Woke up in the morning,
to singing Whippoorwill.
Eight miles walk to town.
we didn't have a car.
Never thought about it,
didn't seem that far.
Little country store,
where we bought our flour.
The walk wasn't far,
to town it took an hour.
Chickens they lay our eggs,
milk was from the cow.
Vegetables from the garden,
my daddy always plow.
Fruit trees to make jelly,
also we made the jam.
Turkeys for Thanksgiving,
Fat hogs came the ham.
Dirt road's no longer there,
there's no longer any hill.
No more waking up,
to singing Whippoorwill.
That was a better time,
in those childhood days.
And I really miss,
good old country ways.
Copyright © 2016 Jo Ann Lovelace. All Rights Reserved.
