Meltin' like butter on a toasty night,
Electricity out dozin' by candlelight.
Grandma in the kitchen shuckin’ peas,
Windows open to catch a cool breeze.
Her lovely voice singin', Amazin' Grace,
A sweet glow upon her age-lined face.
Sweaty hair plastered to my head,
Tryin' to rest in my overheated bed.
In the distance I can hear the thunder roll,
The sound vibrates deep down to the very soul.
Life is good here at grandpa's place,
Just goin' at its own lazy pace.
I hear grandpa call to blow out the light,
And he loves me, have a goodnight.
When you’re eight years old it’s grand,
Life on the farm is the promiseland.
Throwin' some bait into the fishin' hole,
Gandma's fried fish food for a starvin' soul.
Shuckin' corn and skippin rocks,
And the late night grandpa talks.
With a contented smile, I close my eyes,
Lulled to sleep by tin-roof rainin' lullabies.