Apples In The Basket

The sun comes over the top of the Hill
 Shines on the fields I've yet to till
 My bones are weary but I know I will,
 But not just because you ask it
 Rake and hoe hung on twenty penny nails
 Milk lies sweet in a dozen pails
 Hay piled up in a hundred bales
 And Apples in the basket
 A house that's tight to the wind and snow
 A barn that's full of the things we grow
 Empty purse but I don't owe
 A thing to any man living
 A woman warm, a woman kind
 A woman who knows her own sweet mind
 A woman who knows just what's behind
 The things that she's forgiven
 There's branches on the family tree
 There's a boy and a girl and the babies three
 They look like her, they look like me
 Like folks that's dead and gone now
 But I don't care, we're all the same
 There's none to bless and none to blame
 We do it in the family's name
 The work we carry on now
 The old grey goose is on the wing
 But he'll be back again next spring
 Each year we do the same old thing
 And the same old wheel goes spinning.
 When the air is warm and the earth is sweet,
 and the good clean dirt is on our feet
 The circle comes around complete
 And the end is the begining
 The sun comes over the top of the hill
 Shines on the fields I've yet to till
 My bones are weary but I know I will
 And not just because you ask it.
 Rake and hoe hung on twenty penny nails,
 Milk lies sweet in a dozen pails,
 Hay piled up in a hundred bales,
 And apples in the basket.