Bells
The old white wooden church,
stood tall upon a tree lined mountain.
The winding dirt road,
lead us up each Sunday morning.
The big bells would sing out loud,
calling all to come and pray.
On our wedding day once again,
the big bells would sing~I love you.
Years would pass with good and bad,
this time the big bells sing for a funereal.
I remember all the snow covered Christmas's,
we took our bright red sleigh to church.
Riding in our sleigh was so much fun,
gliding over the snow as the bells would ring out.
We would sing along to the bells,
our many favorite church songs.
We have moved far away,
oh how we miss those singing bells.
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