Soft rolling hills and fields of grain Feeling the mist of a light summer rain In precious memories, I go there again Strolling the woods down a shadowy lane Hunting for mushrooms in the month of May The smell of fields of newly-mown hay Breath-taking sunrise of an autumn morn' The awkward steps of a calf newly-born. I would go to heaven willingly if it held the charm Of fields, woods and creek I loved on our farm. Sweet memories of our farm I’ve stored in my heart Protected and cherished until life I depart.