Apples in the Basket
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The sun comes over the top of the Hill
Shines on the fields I've yet to till
My bones are weary but I know I will,
But not just because you ask it
Rake and hoe hung on twenty penny nails
Milk lies sweet in a dozen pails
Hay piled up in a hundred bales
And Apples in the basket
A house that's tight to the wind and snow
A barn that's full of the things we grow
Empty purse but I don't owe
A thing to any man living
A woman warm, a woman kind
A woman who knows her own sweet mind
A woman who knows just what's behind
The things that she's forgiven
There's branches on the family tree
There's a boy and a girl and the babies three
They look like her, they look like me
Like folks that's dead and gone now
But I don't care, we're all the same
There's none to bless and none to blame
We do it in the family's name
The work we carry on now
The old grey goose is on the wing
But he'll be back again next spring
Each year we do the same old thing
And the same old wheel goes spinning.
When the air is warm and the earth is sweet,
and the good clean dirt is on our feet
The circle comes around complete
And the end is the begining
The sun comes over the top of the hill
Shines on the fields I've yet to till
My bones are weary but I know I will
And not just because you ask it.
Rake and hoe hung on twenty penny nails,
Milk lies sweet in a dozen pails,
Hay piled up in a hundred bales,
And apples in the basket.