WHAT REALLY MATTERS

WHAT REALLY MATTERS

I was born a country boy,
Wouldn’t have it any other way.
Some like the cement and blacktop,
But I like the dirt and clay.

I was born in a farmhouse,
At a place they call West Hill.
In my life I’ve done some traveling,
But my heart remained here still.

I’ve seen some real tall buildings,
That man has built so high.
I can’t seem to make them compare,
To where the mountains reach the sky.

You may love your home in the city,
And would never wish for more.
Contented right where you are,
Think it's the best for sure.

I guess all that really matters,
Is that we’re happy and we give,
A thank you to the Lord above,
For this land on which we live.

©01/19/10

(Monty)