Out beneath the big oak tree
there sat a withered rocker
Grandpa used to sit with me
telling stories of the old.

The wars, the crops, his faith in God
were nearest to his heart
His smiling eyes, they beamed so bright,
he was giving us his part

That's just the way it was with us,
he planted those small seeds;
One by one we had our time.
human kindness and good deeds

My Grandpa has a heart of gold
and he taught us all so well
He is always there for all of us
so sit down for a spell

He will tell you all about his kids
and all his grandkids too
And again the stories of the old,
his knowledge shared with you.

We never take this lightly
for his gift we do respect
I'll always see his smiling eyes
taking time just to reflect..

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