Song Description
A song dedicated to my grandfather...
Song Length |
3:58 |
Genre |
Country - Rock, Country - Alternative |
Tempo |
Medium Slow (91 - 110) |
Lead Vocal |
Male Vocal |
Mood |
Pleasant, Content |
Subject |
Farmer, History, Past |
Similar Artists |
Garth Brooks, The Eagles |
Language |
English |
Era |
2000 and later |
| |
Lyrics
I Spy (Fields of Gold)
Music and Lyrics by Rob Oswin
Picture a young man, Age 22
Facing conscription, on a harvest moon,
From Provost, Alberta, spent New Years '43
In the company of strangers on the cold streets of Calgary,
He said, a man came to the farm, he told my father so,
Camp Wainright's training infantry, there's a better way to go.
The Army did come calling, But we beat'em to the test,
You see the Red Indian Squadron had my name on the list?
There were hard times, so we took desperate measures,
When the sun'd shine, We'd make hay
But the best times, I still remember? Come when
I spy, with my little eye
Little house on the prairie, Not a cloud in the sky
When the harvest is in, When the seeds are sown
When the feed's in the silos, All bunkered down in fields of gold.
First stop was Cape Breton, the next was over there
Normandy from Liverpool, I was keeping Spitfires in the air
'Til 1945, when the war was said and done,
We were 17 unlucky lads and 83 Alberta bound!
With the money I made in his Majesty's command,
Well I bought and cleared the parcels bellied up against my father's land.
While I'd learned the waltz, I'd lose my courage at the dance,
Alone til '67, When I found true love on Lac Saint Anne?
Sold the farm, in '83
Built the cabin, at Alberta Beach
On the way to The "Bridge" from Var-Jer-Val.
Let's take the long way home, Cuz I just feel like talking now!
There were hard times, so we took desperate measures,
When the sun'd shine, We'd make hay
But the best times, I still remember? Come when
I spy, with my little eye
Little house on the prairie, Not a cloud in the sky
When the harvest is in, When the seeds are sown
When the feed's in the silos, All bunkered down in fields of gold...
Oh! I spy, with my little eye
Little house on the prairie, Not a cloud in the sky
When the harvest is in, When the seeds are sown
When the feed's in the silos, All bunkered down in fields of gold...
In field of gold... All bunkered down in fields of gold.
For Papa Glenn
©2002 Rob Oswin (Raw Boswin) For More Information write Raw Boswin, 71 Columbia Place NW, Calgary, Ab. T2L 0R4 Or Phone (403)289-8532
This song is copyright protected by a WorldWideOCR SEAL? File.