House Upon A Hill
When I was but a boy, home was a house upon a hill.
It’d been that way for as long as I could remember.
And even longer still.
It was as my father served this country, And so it remains as I serve too.
If, but only a memory now.
It was where my Mamaw cooked, and sewed, and cared;
For each and everyone.
It was a place that all would come to trade, to beg, or borrow.
It was the place the family gathered for all those special times.
A place, like no other, this house upon a hill.
I hear my father calling, “I’m going over home!”
A freshly painted picture of what that meant to me.
Progress is a wonderful thing.
The world must go round-n-round.
Home was a house upon a hill, but now it’s a hole in the ground!
I do not blame anyone,
Really, I don’t give a damn!
For you see I am promised,
And one day I’ll return,
I’m going over home and to that house upon a hill!
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