Next
time we’re in America
Perhaps we’ll go
Across the fertile prairie-land
To Idaho
To see the ripening corncobs
Underneath blue skies:
But only if the Lord will
And the creek don’t rise.
Or maybe take the highway
On the northern fork
Until we reach the Atlantic
And we see New York
And end up with the folks there
To our own surprise:
But only if the Lord will
And the creek don’t rise.
Or maybe take the south fork
To the sands and sun:
To see the folks in Florida
Would be great fun,
To chase the alligators
Or the butterflies
But only if the Lord will
And the creek don’t rise.
Wheaton 17 May 2019
Try the tune “All Granny left me was her old armchair”!
Perhaps we’ll go
Across the fertile prairie-land
To Idaho
To see the ripening corncobs
Underneath blue skies:
But only if the Lord will
And the creek don’t rise.
Or maybe take the highway
On the northern fork
Until we reach the Atlantic
And we see New York
And end up with the folks there
To our own surprise:
But only if the Lord will
And the creek don’t rise.
Or maybe take the south fork
To the sands and sun:
To see the folks in Florida
Would be great fun,
To chase the alligators
Or the butterflies
But only if the Lord will
And the creek don’t rise.
Wheaton 17 May 2019
Try the tune “All Granny left me was her old armchair”!
I really enjoyed reading this one! I liked the “ripening corncobs underneath blue skies” and the fun and earthy refrain!
ReplyDelete