The Mountain Laurel
The Journal of Mountain Life

Visit us on FaceBookGenerations of Memories
from the
Heart of the Blue Ridge

After Super

By Tilitha Waicekauskas © 1991

Issue: June, 1991

There's a house that still is standing
In the land of yesteryear,
And when I close my eyes to sleep
It sometimes will appear.

It didn't have electric lights
Or a television set,
But the lamplight gave a golden glow
That I cannot forget.

And almost every evening
After all the work was done,
We'd gather in the living room
For homemade family fun.

While Julius tuned his banjo
Bud would strum on his guitar,
And then we'd have some music
Played by our own country star.

And we'd sit beside the table
In the old lamp's mellow light,
While our Mama read her Bible
For she read it every night.

And Daddy tilted back his chair
And read a western book,
While Barkus started yawning
With a drowsy, sleepy look.

And I'd be sitting by the lamp
- A good book in my hand -
While I listened to the music
Of our homespun country band.

And I loved to watch their fingers fly
- And sometimes hummed along.
While the boys were making music
All the world was filled with song.

And while the boys were picking
All of us had tapping feet,
For the rhythm of the music
Was what made the day complete.

When Julius played the banjo
Bells in Heaven always rang,
And I know the Angels listened in
Whenever Buddy sang.

Now life's evening sun is sinking
For it's near the end of day,
And soon we'll cross the river
Into Heaven, there to stay.

And I'll know it's really Heaven
And that it's where I belong
If the Boys are there to greet me
With a good old country song.