The day's been long, the world's been loud, Another dose of worry all around, I settle down in my old easy chair, And find a familiar friend waiting there. An 18 by 24 canvas, a brush in hand, He starts creating another land, Thirty minutes later, before my eyes, Lakes, forests and beauty now lie. Happy little trees beneath painted skies, Soft white clouds gently drifting by, An almighty mountain standing tall and free, A little bit of peace on my TV. With every stroke he seemed to say, "It's gonna' work out fine some way," And though he's gone, his light still shines, With happy little trees helping me unwind. The years roll on, the world has changed, Yet Bob's gentle message still remains, New generations escape the noise, To hear that calm and soothing voice. Happy little trees beneath painted skies, Soft white clouds gently drifting by, An almighty mountain standing tall and free, A little bit of peace on my TV. Thirty minutes from a canvas bare, To a world of beauty painted there, And although Bob has said goodbye, His happy little world will never die.
