From the recording Walking in on America


I was eight years old with a dirty face
Chasing Emily through the rows
Bringing water to my grandpa
As he leaned on his hoe
He said, “Your dreams can rot inside you boy
like grapes left on the vine
but you do your best and then you rest
and wait for harvest time”
It was the spring of ‘45
When I made Emily my wife
And together we built a life with a son of our own
I was turning the fields that day
Vietnam took his life away
I’ll never forget the way it felt at harvest time
We tried not to be bitter
Or ask the good Lord why
I tried to be a strong man
And a shoulder for my wife
She was always the best part of me
We shared each other’s souls
But I lost her this past April
And that’s when I got old
Now the fields have gone to thistles
I’m too weak to work the plow
The things that meant the most to me are fading memories now
But you know I don’t regret it all
This long and lonely ride
I was blessed beyond measure to have known love in my life
But I can’t call this living now
It’s more like getting by
I long to see my family
And I long for harvest time
Music and Lyrics by Stuart Douglas
Copyright 2001 Mr. Douglas Music BMI