It is just a road like any other,
But it takes me home to my Dad and Mother.
A simple road not fancy, but good,
It is covered with gravel, and bridges of wood.
It lead to a home where laughter was heard,
And the songs up above from many a bird.
The hound dog and chickens would chase each other,
They were just Bantys, but could they fight, oh brother.
The pigs were all happy in the mud where they played,
And a barn full of chickens, with the eggs they had laid.
Mom's home made quilts kept us warm in our beds,
As our plans for tomarrow bounced around in our heads.
Our Ice Cream was home made, and sometimes from Snow,
But the joys that are simple are the best, don't you know.
We ran and we played, and our knees we did scrape,
But Mom could fix anything, even a towel for a cape.
The smell of the pies, from the oven still hot,
Who could ask in this life for a much better lot ?
Tho the house is no more, that was once our abode,
Tis the joy in our memory,
that still lives down that road.
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