November '47, we left the big city
My folks and my brother, my sister and I
We lived in a basement, way out in a cornfield
Windows so small, you can just see the sky
Milk crates for chairs, and orange crates for cupboards
Concrete-block walls, they never got warm
We read by a kerosene lantern that winter
And Daddy told stories of home and the farm.
The twins came in April, and mother was tired
So much to do, nowhere to begin
Mud all around us and four rooms so crowded
That was the spring that we put in the trees.
Elm trees and poplar, birches and cherry
Flowering crab apple and maple and pine
They were 3 or 4 feet tall, and thick as your finger
We pounded in stakes and we tied them with twine

Daddy, just look at those trees that you planted
Here's a chair for you, Mother, come sit in the shade
It's 30 years later, the children have scattered
But we'll always give thanks for the life that you made.

Those trees looked so tiny from my bedroom window
Money was scarce with six children so small
How I longed to be wealthy, and live in a mansion
Surrounded by trees that were graceful and tall
But the years have gone by, and now I can see it
How precious those days of sweet memories
I think of the cornfield, the house, and the people
And I love to go by and just look at the trees.