EULOGY 121411 - SUNDAY AFTERNOON

James Michael Taylor

I wrote this at my dad’s urging. He likes it. We sing it together. I have YouTube Video of it up.

EULOGY

He grew up in Clinton, Oklahoma
Red dirt back yard, Gramma’s place
Honey suckle in a dust bowl
Life as hard as limestone lace

Eating careless weed and fresh lamb’s quarter
Empty stomachs, rattle round
Toatin’ sacks of Red Cross flour
In his wagon home from town

Sometimes I cry because I miss him
I watch my children as they sleep
Oh, how I’d like to see the angels
See his face when he hears them sing

Whatever hope there is in parting
Whatever power Love can bring
Whatever chances for our meeting
Together in that choir again

Oh, how I miss our weekly phone call
Talk of your garden and the rain
How you went and rescued Mama
And you brought her home again.

You stood by me when I was in trouble
You taught me how to work the land
You fixed the tractor when I broke it
A humble way to be a man

Whatever hope there is in parting
Whatever power Love can bring
Whatever chances for our meeting
Together in that choir again

I see his hands when I’m out driving
I see his brow in the mirror light
When people say, “You’re like your father,”
I just say, “Thanks,” and I hope they’re right.

(C) 2009 Royal T Music

I sang this at his funeral…