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The Old Farm House (Lilibonelle)
There is an old farm house
Where I used to play,
Covered with mud, was my pretty blouse
Each and every day.
Where I used to play
Down by the watering hole,
Jumping in piles of hay
Petting the little foal.
Covered with mud, was my pretty blouse
From playing with the baby pigs,
I used to visit, the old farm house
In the field, holes, I used to dig.
Each and every day
Tears, form in my eyes,
Missing the place, I used to play
'Neath the azure skies.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Apr.7/2007
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The Old Farm House (Lilibonelle)
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