Love of the Mountains

Two trees on a hillside of the mountain

Always looking up towards the sky

Remind me of my papa and my mama

Who lived there eighty years before they died

Now a bright moon is shining in the valley

An old wagon leans against a stack of hay

Two graves on a hillside by the cabin

My mom and dad are resting there today

The burning of the green wood on the fireplace

The fallen snow around the red bud trees

The branches of the laurel by the creek bed

And the rippling waters of the gentle stream

Papa used to talk about the young days

When he and mama first were settled there

He spoke about the love of the mountains

That he and mama shared together there