We moved into our new home— The woody scent of the rail fence still fresh. The new paint on the weathervane tower Shone bright red from 'cross the field. That good ol’ country smell of earth, Our baby wrapped in her pink blanket, And your pretty smile of blush pink lips Were the joys I known at that moment. The land was good to us. Food and blessins plenty. And our little family growin’, too. Oh, I did thought this was the life— God, the good earth, and a pretty wife… But I was startin’ to see that the Newness in your eyes was goin’. The wind blows different now. The red is a bit rusted, The old paint's chippin’, But that weathervane’s still spinnin’, And standing tall through it all. When our babies were seven and five, You said you couldn’t do this anymore— A city girl working the land wasn’t what You signed up for. One mornin’, I looked down that dirt road Saw the dust flyin’ behind your wheels. The kids are grown now and As I sit here on this ol' porch With a cup of coffee in hand, I look at that old, beaten weathervane Rusted and creakin’ in the distance… Glad that it stood the test of time. The wind blows different now. The red is a bit rusted, The old paint's chippin’, But that weathervane’s still spinnin’, And standing tall through it all. BUT THAT WEATHERVANE'S STILL SPINNIN' AND STANDING TALL THROUGH IT ALL!
