Where the pavement ends and the dirt begins
is where my life began.
Where the river meets the road across 
the old bridge will bring you
to the old yellow house where Dad, Mom, Jake and I 
spent the seasons of our lives.
 
Work and play bring to memory the days 
of my life of yesterday.
Thoughts come of that gunnysack swing that hung 
out back on that old cottonwood tree.
 
Old getta-up gunnysack swing would call to me, 
“Come see what the day would bring!”
We would call out “Getta-up” as we rode 
through the West on a hot summer day.
We would stop at the old watering hole for a swim 
where we posted a sign, “No Girls Allowed”
and we liked it that way!
 
Pretending we were desperados riding 
through the wilds of the West 
on that old getta-up swing 
is what we liked best.
 
Oh! Those times were the best of my life.
How I miss that old yellow house of my youth.
Time passes too quickly now 
as spring and summer turn to fall.
Then winter brings the snow, 
and it washes the land as if to say,
“Bring on spring, the best time of all.”

I feel my age as I turn down the road. 
I see the old yellow house 
and that old cottonwood tree.
Here I know I will find my rest 
under that old cottonwood tree.