A Tribute To Great Grandpa, John Henry

Four score and eight long years ago, my great-grandfather died

He never was a wealthy man but he had that Farley pride.

He never wanted riches; his desires? They went untold--

But he found his love in a country girl with a heart he thought was gold.

Great Grandmother was a simple gal with a heart of love for her man,

She built their home with nothing but a tattered frying pan.

Through winter's cold and summer's sweat they labored and grew weary

Yet nothing stopped their surging on, though months were bleak and bleary.

From a country shack and an old log barn, their children sprang like weeds

As Lucy and John Henry planted little Farley seeds.

The seedlings all have sprouted and branched out on their own

To help create this Farley tree, though many have passed on.

The tree keeps growing, year by year, leaves spread out on their own,

But this long-standing Farley tree will always call them home.

So Lucy and John Henry, if you’re up there looking down,

Be proud of all the leaflings you’ve left scattered on the ground.

Your toil and labor, farming and hay--have made us who we are today.