I remember a lot about him,

but somethings more than others

I remember how his hands were strong and hard,

yet could gently hold my mother

I know that hands say much about their owners

that they show what kind of life they lived

and his hands were that of a farmer

who all his life did give

he plowed and tilled the soil

working hard to build a home

hard and rough, did he toil

Rain or shine he worked hard

making sure all was well on the farm

trying to be a good father

trying to be a good man

his hands, so worn, so calloused

his arms, built up a home

to me it was a palace

at the crack of dawn, always got up

singing his song, ha always was

"it is no secret, what God can do

what He's done for others, He'll do for you

with Arms wide open, He'll care for you

it is no secret, what God can do"

I love you, Grandpa