Scatter me under the evergreen trees,
on the mossy ground where roots run deep.
The three tall pines towered over the land,
of a large fruit farm, so very grand.
Watching farmers toil and children play,
In the sunshine of a hot summer’s day.
And if those majestic pines be no more,
then sprinkle me on the forest floor.
Where lily-of-the-valley scent the air,
Where children once played without a care.
Hide and seek and games of tag,
Hollar and whoops, good times to share.
The farm, now a distant memory,
in the minds of those privileged to be,
a part of the land and the fabric of life,
generations connected by joy and strife.
So, scatter me where my heart belongs,
In the presence of family so long gone,
Let me sleep where the ones I knew,
Worked and played, and loved so true