On pleasant foggy misty days
My spirit spirals far away
to lovely moments lost in time
A spring below a wooded hill
Sweet shrub bloomed in early spring
and roses wild of palest pink
more fragile than the softest silk

Barefoot girls walked freely there
scared of neither man or beast
We wandered through the hills and fields
to gather wood to cook our meals
We picked blackberries from the briers
for mamas juicy cobbler pies

Cracked hickory nuts on graveyard hill
where mossy graves lay long untouched
Yes time were hard and very lean
I would not live that time again
Yet my heart turns back with love
to sunny days and barefoot girls
and mama at the kitchen door

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