A Missouri Heaven
When the full moon rises,
and the stars start to glow.
Down to that old creek bank,
is where I like to go.
A few leaves still hanging,
shaking in the breeze.
Holding on for dear life
to them persimmon trees.
Out across the gully,
other side of the bridge.
Coon hounds hot on a trail,
just over the next ridge.
Surrounded by nature,
I am filled with delight.
Deep in these Ozark woods,
on moonlit winter nights.
A cool wind a blowing,
winter’s flurries around.
The only sound to hear,
the bawling of a hound.
Down to that old creek bank,
Is where I like to go.
When the full moon rises,
and the stars start to glow.
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