The journey long and tried but forever is just around the corner
Rode the rail of heaven Lord I come here to sing your song Lord Now just where did I go wrong I worked my hands to calluses
I fed my family praised you Thanked you for the gifts from the land Blessed you for the wild game
Walked the children to water to baptize Had the pastor to house to feed and sleep You took my wife and my daughter Boys and me are alone we cry for mercy
I beg for sleep Lord what did I do Pastor blessed this house widow cares for us, cooks and washes, little pay eggs, a chicken in the pot, butcher pig
Banker claims I owe him the land I buried him in my plot Sheriff says I will hang Boys say they found him drown
In the creek neighbors help me hide The boys till the soil Widow claims the oldest one for husband Lord forgive me I know no other way
White sheets come but go home Torch of cross left behind Widow laced each with buckshot Lord we dance to your name joy to the world
Rode the rail going to heaven as man of honor Markers on top of the hill we are a gift Lord we pray to your holy name Still the draught came then the flood
Lord just what is it I’ve done Turned the soil and made the ground give its worth Golden rods blowing in the wind My back is laid to the stone and the plow
Where is I failed you all I sought was Heaven Rode the rail as the liven' was about all gone They took my youngest to the army to fight over there He never came home Lord why did he have to go
Where is the path and the reward here Lord Just what is it I ‘ve done wrong Lord I tried to follow Willow sings in the glen old house gives grace a go
Lord leads left behind to the water and the young ones say the prayers and we honor the old man gone
Lord bless his old hands and take him to the gates of heaven He rode the rail best he could welcome his soul
He goes to prepare our place. He is a hard worker loyal to you His hands be calluses his show of honor in the stone and plow
Love him lord as he loved you and as we love you and him We keep the lamp trimmed and the field full of grain blowing in his honor and yours
We work the field and live each day Old and young walk the path to the river and all wait your judgment He rode the rail to heaven and we followed the best we can
Let this coming of age story of a boy named Bean take you back to a simple time. Set in a small southern town in the 1960's, encircled by a river and gleaming white cotton fields.
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Hope you okay!!
Love Tinka