[Verse 1] The calendar turns to the first day of spring, A promise of life that the season will bring. The Howell in white, and the Howey in black, With no thought of turning or looking right back. The March wind is howling, the snow’s on the ground, But inside the chapel, a treasure is found. We’re building a foundation, a hearth and a home, No matter how far in the world we might roam. The ledger is empty, the future is clear, As we whisper the vows that the witnesses hear. [Chorus] Oh, the first of the March, in the year seventy-five, We started the journey that keeps us alive. The Howell to love, and the Howey to hold, A story of promise that’s yet to be told. The ink and the acre, the iron and the ring, We’re weaving the joy that the union will bring. From a vow to a life, from a life to a clan, We’re following out the creator’s own plan. [Verse 2] The house is a frame that we build by the light, Working together through the chill of the night. A cradle is waiting, a table is set, A family is forming, a debt of regret Is washed from the slate by the laughter of kids, Breaking the patterns the old world forbids. The Howey is steady, the Howell is grace, Finding the warmth in a shared, quiet space. We’re sketching the future in pencil and wood, Doing the best that we possibly could. [Chorus] Oh, the first of the March, in the year seventy-five, We started the journey that keeps us alive. The Howell to love, and the Howey to hold, A story of promise that’s yet to be told. The ink and the acre, the iron and the ring, We’re weaving the joy that the union will bring. From a vow to a life, from a life to a clan, We’re following out the creator’s own plan. [Bridge] It isn’t in ledgers, it isn’t in steel, It’s in the connection that’s honest and real. The small, daily struggles, the bread on the plate, The love that is stronger than heavy-set fate. We’re planting the garden, we’re watching it grow, With the wisdom of seasons that only we know. The Howell and Howey, a name and a bond, To the future we look, to the world far beyond. Our legacy isn't the paper or gold, It's the love of the family, as it unfolds. [Verse 3] The evening is cooling, the fire is bright, Reflecting the joy of a March wedding night. The twenty-third song is a toast to the vow, To the life that we’ve made and the life that is now. The Howell is smiling, the Howey is proud, As we stand together away from the crowd. The children are sleeping, the house is at rest, Having put all our hope to the ultimate test. The ledger is full of the names that we love, With a blessing that comes from the heavens above. [Chorus] Oh, the first of the March, in the year seventy-five, We started the journey that keeps us alive. The Howell to love, and the Howey to hold, A story of promise that’s yet to be told. The ink and the acre, the iron and the ring, We’re weaving the joy that the union will bring. From a vow to a life, from a life to a clan, We’re following out the creator’s own plan. [Outro] The record is spinning, the music is low, The embers are casting a soft, golden glow. The Howell is heart, and the Howey is hearth, The two of us walking the span of the earth. The twenty-third part is written in bliss, Sealed by the promise and sealed by the kiss.
