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I grew up
in a very small town,
A small town in which I still live,
A town where even my parents grew up,
A town for which all I would give.
Down on
the corner, the small barber shop,
Where 'Grandpa Jones' first cut my hair,
And then next to that is Pop's Ice Cream store,
Where sodas were made with such flare.
The movie
theatre where soldiers did fight,
For the land of the brave and the free,
And in my backyard, all my friends there would
meet,
In my clubhouse way up in a tree.
The
schoolhouse with only one old musty room,
With a bell tower sitting on top,
We'd play in the courtyard for all we were worth,
Till the school bell would tell us to
stop.
And when
I got older, the town's coffee shop,
Where friends there would meet to discuss,
The state of the Union and prices of gas,
Which at times would cause someone to
cuss.
I never
would think of leaving this town,
Its life-blood now flows through my veins,
It was good for my father, for me and my kids,
And to leave would cause nothing but pain.
So I'll
live and I'll die in my little home town,
And be buried up there on the hill,
My spirit now free to wander through time,
But in fact I'll be living here still.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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