Courtesy of Barbara Welch, Brownlee
I sat outside this morning
To hear the peace and quiet
And after just a little while
Knew something wasn't right
Where was that of the meadowlark
With a song so sweet and pure
The one that when he sings it
Makes you know
There is a God, for sure.
He'd sit up in that cottonwood
And I could hear him sing
I'll just bet that he thought
He was king of everything!
I try to think
How it would be
To sit in the very top
Of that high old tree.
I could see the rolling sandhills
I could watch the sun come up
And I could watch the shadows leave
A picture oh so beautiful
No artist could achieve.
I'd see a slow and crooked river
And I'd sing to her a song
As I watched a mossback turtle
Slowly crawl along.
I'd see yellow sunflower
That just grow everyplace
And no matter what time it is
They show God their face.
Then I'd sing and sing
All my sweet pure notes
And they would carry far away
Of how I love the Sandhills
Is what I'd try to say...
Alas, I'm not a meadowlark
So I'll just sit out here to see
If my old friend will once again
Come to sing to me.
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