Location: Eastdale, Colorado, USA
As I look back upon the days and years in Eastdale spent, I wonder if I will ever be more happy or content,
To think of how we used to do when came a holiday, Our band was out, our flag aloft, and we'd all shout hurray,
We'd march right in the meeting house; first Bishops invocation, then we sang America, and Andrus the oration. Duet by mother and Lizzie Ann, Girls chorus the age of Kate, A reading by sister Holman bout how she learned to skate.
A rousing accordion solo played by brother Hess, Now just a few more numbers and it's time to eat I gues.
We may have been poor and common folks, but united together we found, when each one brought the things they had, there was plenty of food around.
When I think of all those good ole feeds of potatoes and chicken stew, of custards & pickles & souse & beans baked through and through. And almost every woman in town came with a different kind of cake, and when you tasted everything you had the stomach ache.
But you just had to eat some of the ice cream, how you could do it was queer, Then BY JOVE what's that I see? Aunt Carrie with a keg of beer.
In the evening we’d have a dance, Tho' our floor was rough and small, We'd go right ahead and enjoy ourselves, cause we didn't mind at all, Six hand around the caller said, and two swing in "the middle, While Simon pumped the organ and Ephraim played the fiddle.
The boys and girls on Sunday in calico and jeans, invaded almost every house for pie or cake or beans.
I'll never forget one Sunday while sitting on a chair, Little Edith climbed upon my knee, and combed my coal black hair, But since that time some things have changed, I married a woman stout, She never liked to comb my hair so she just pulled it out.
Yes since those days we've moved around and scattered every where, Most of our parents and others are waiting over there.
We must not give into sorrow, it will do no good to mourn, Our trials and misfortunes, with courage must be borne, Be happy where our lot is cast, We'll surely be united with our loved ones at last,
And so you think and ponder about the ones you’ve known, Think about the lessons learned and the seeds you’ve sown. Your mind goes back to Eastdale, tho’ it makes the teardrops start, Twill be a source of comfort and still calm a troubled heart.