My great-great grandpa built this church

In 1865.

The Civil War had just been won;

His son came home alive.

They built the little building

And laid out the cemetery.

Great-great grandpa was the first

One they had to bury.

I feel such peace while standing here

Surrounded by my kin.

I know their blood runs in my veins

That I am one of them.

Four generations sleeping here

Under these old trees.

The plots are all accounted for;

There is no room for me.

Where 'ere you lay me when I die,

It will no difference make;

For I know I'll find this hill,

These loved ones, when I wake.