the path I walk is seldom used
its rocky and rough never smooth
its parched and dry just like a desert
a separate path all its own
the curves are crooked its valley deep
the hills it bares they are so steep
its hard and long never gives
but I like the way it is
the path has no nectar not sweet or pure
its no bed of roses this I am sure
the waters are deep in which I wade
the path is mine tailor made
there is one thing and this I know
that would make it easier as I go
to walk with you would be grand
walking through life hand in hand