The Old Log Cabin

There's an old log cabin down an old rustic lane-
there's a big rock well with an old wooden frame.
It was here that I knew childhood but it seems like yesterday,
that I trotted down that old rock path to my grapevine swing to play.

I can still see my dear Mother as she tended each sweet flower,
they seemed to nod their heads at her and beg for her grand smile.
And there's a big red barn-just across the way,
where Daddy used to put just loads and loads of hay.

And now I pass the woodshed-and I just have to smile-
it was here I was the Doctor-and the patient Sis's doll.
And there's the meadow pond, muddy now and gray,
where we used to play the hot summertime away.

And over on yon hill, a little church I see,
where Mom and Dad and Sis and I attended each Sabbath Sunday.
As I turn and walk away, a teardrop dims my eye,
I wonder when my time will come----
when I can be be on yon hill-where my parents and sister lie.

Rest Well, Mom written 1929
Betty Daniels
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