I love my state, my beautiful state
by Joy H. Reagle
The state where I was born
No wonder I'm proud of it,
It has the soil, my feet first set foot on.
I was born in those beautiful hills.
On those hills I use to play
There we could roam until time to come home
And discover something new each day.
We discovered trails rocks and rills,
The old rail fence at the top of the hill.
There we felt the soft summer breeze
Listened to the birds singing in the trees
I loved those hills, those beautiful hills.
The hills I use to play on
There you could find place of mind,
Friends were true loyal and kind
We often played in the meadow fair,
We could pick wild flowers and berries there
It was by the meadow the river run
There we could fish swim and have fun.
Or we could have fun, just sitting there
Watching the river slowly run
We knew when we come back tomorrow
There would be more where that come from.
We mixed work with play
Until supper time at the end of day
Then round the table we all sat,
With all discussing this and that
After supper was over and dishes done.
To the living room we all come
We sat in a circle so we could be
In one anothers company
We all talked of what we had done that day
The work we had accomplished
Or the new places we found to play
Then as we sat there, the evening grew still
Then came the call of the whip poor will
Then from out of the sky, the night birds cry.
The night grew as silent as a doves folded
Wings, then out in the night
A night - in- gale would sweetly sing
The hooty owl would hoot to the dove
Those are the sounds I remember and love.
Most everyone roams from the state
They call home, but we can drift back
In memory to the place we use to be.
For me its those hills, those beautiful
Hills, the hills I use to play on.