Life here on the backside,
Where scrub brushes grow,
Among flowers and trees,
Majestic mountains show.

The barn houses the hay,
And the cows for milking,
Horse's shelter in storms,
And spotted pigs oinking.

Tractor parked beneath,
The loft filled with hay,
There's an old broken truck,
That was a worker in its day.

Fences that are freshly mended,
A towering silo filled with feed,
Preparations underway for Winter,
Seeing to all the animals' needs.

The house sits just in front of the barn,
Built solid and with great care,
Rooms large and ceilings high,
Plenty of room for family to share.

Soon smoke will wisp from the chimney,
Spreading warmth through each room,
We gather around the fireplace,
Chasing away early Winter's gloom.

Looking across the harvested acreage,
Taking comfort in the blessings given,
Knowing without the Lord's touch,
Each day would be trouble riven.

With the Lord walking with us,
We enjoy life on the backside,
Daily we praise His Holy Name,
In a home where His love resides.

The sun coming up o'er the mountains,
Glistening rays upon the tops of the trees,
Warming the valley below with the sunshine,
Caressing the grasses with a gentle breeze.

This is sweet life on the backside,
I am drawn by the beauteous view,
I see God in each sector around me as,
I kneel, praise and thank Him anew.

ęGayle Davis
31 August 2008



Music: "Them Old Cotton Fields Back Home"

Sequenced By : Frank (Grandpa) Schober
Used With Permission

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