Well I come into this country in 1795
Considered myself lucky to even be alive
Walked into the dooryard and knocked upon the door
The girl there said: (Come on you, boy?)
Don't you ramble no more.
Well I took this girl and married her made the girl my wife,
Considered myself luckier than ever in my life.
The love that grew between us made the sun, the moon to shine
And the stars sang a banjo tune
When she said that she'd be mine.
From The Older I Get, Art Thieme