The Farm

January back in '55 we rode a Greyhound

Bus through the Georgia midnight

Grandpa was sleeping and the winter sky was clear

We hit a bump and his head jerked back

A little and he mumbled something

He woke up smiling, but his eyes were bright with tears

He said, "I dreamed I was back on the farm

Twenty years have passed, boy, but the memory still warms me

Wildflowers in a mason jar"

He told me those old stories 'bout that one room cabin in Kentucky

The smell of rain and the feel of the warm earth in his hands

He slowly turned and stared outside

His face was mirrored in the window

And his reflection flew across the moonlit land

And he dreamed he was back on the farm

He tilts his head and listens to the early sounds of morning

Wildflowers in a mason jar

An old man and an eight-year-old boy

Rolling down that midnight highway

Warm Kentucky memories from a winter Georgia night

I started drifting off and grandpa took his coat around me

I think I tried to smile as I slowly closed my eyes

And I dreamed I was with him on the farm

Grandpa, I can hear the evening wind out in the tall corn

Wildflowers in a mason jar

Wildflowers in a mason jar

And the bus rolled through the night

Wildflowers in a mason jar

Wildflowers in a mason jar