ON THE HILLS OF WHITESVILLE
On the Hills of Whitesville/ Dusty roads and pick up trucks
Singing by the fire till the sun comes up
Telling tales of hunting that will never grow old
Les is frying bacon on the old wood stove
Nothing ever changes On the Hills of Whitesville
And when I’m gone my heart is lonely For the good times and the memories
Where my friends and my family Enjoy each other’s company
And when I’m gone my heart is lonely For the peaceful things that I need
That I only find on those hills Where my heart will always be.
On the Hills of Whitesville/ Beer cans and coffeepots
The laughing never ceases and the jokes never stop
Babies growing up to the smell of beer, Papa may be gone but his spirits always near
Nothing ever changes On the Hills of Whitesville.
Time stands still there, The Mullen’s farm is still there
Dirt roads running through the one horse town.
The red house is still there It stood against the test of time.
Donna Dutchess Copyright 2016
816 Thomas Lane, Angola, NY 14006
716-512-0681 716-549-5445 firstname.lastname@example.org