| My Father's Face In flannel plaid and woolen socks, He sits by the old wood stove, His calloused hands fold gently, His eyes are almost closed. The day is done it's time to rest, And forget all his trouble and woes, It's time just to sit by the old wood stove, And close his eyes and doze. Somethings of youth I've forgotten, That's how it is I suppose, But I'll never forget my fathers face, As he sat by the wood stove and dozed. |
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| My Mother's Voice When my mothers voice I'd hear Hollering through the summer air, I knew that I had much to fear When my mother called. Sometimes her voice was honey sweet Calling come home love it's time to eat, I knew that with a hug we'd greet When my mother called. And when she called me soft and low I knew that I could walk home slow, For she was happy this I'd know, When my mother called. And when she'd sound really sad I'd know that she was feeling bad And when I'd get there she'd be glad, When my mother called. But now her voice no more I hear, I'm all grown up and she's not here, But sometimes I remember clear, The days my mother called. |
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