The Song of he Retired Farmer

Written by: Joyce Johnson

Oh, I sit upon my porch, just to get a bit of breeze,
On the north side of my house, under over-hanging trees.
I feel so contented here, with my good dog at my feet.
At my age it takes so little, to make a life complete.
Dear ones have gone before, and will meet me at the shore
When I leave this earthly home and don't need it any more.
For now my work is over, I can rest this sumer day
And feel pity for my neighbor in the meadow making hay.

The breeze is growing cooler, and the dog is getting bored.
I'll soon be in my bedoom just a chatting with the Lord.
I was a busy fellow and I worked hard all my life
I rased some boys and girls and I had a darling wife.
I saved a little money and I sometimes go to see
My children who have settled in the west aways from me.
I am always glad to get back to my little valley home.
The older that I get the less inclined I am to roam.

So I sit upon my porch, just to get a bit of breeze,
On the north side of my house, under over-hanging trees.
I reckon there's no other fellow more content than I
In my small home in the valley, where I'll stay until I die.

By: Joyce Johnson 2007