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The Sweet Journey HomeThough it took time to find my way from New YorkI knew I'd make it back in three days maybe fourbut I ran late till I hopped a freightoutside Sanduskyit felt strange to be travelin' and not wearin' my crossat first I couldn't recall where Dad's gift got loststill I made it west in time to rest'fore the leaves got rustyand wherever we sleep...wherever we roamlife is a sweet journey homeDad waved till I was just a spec when I left homemy ole hound trailed my bus till I was two days gonethen found his way back to my dad's shack on the scent of his whiskeycos something about home makes the senses burnand I heard ev'ry robin's song as I returnedwhen I got near I saw Dad clear though that pine grove was mistythe wind's blue sighs became soft moansat the end of my sweet journey homethough ours is not to reason whythat's reserved for God on highit was hard for Dad to accept his losscos all they found to bury was my crossSept of '01 carved upon my stoneit welcomed me after my sweet journey home(c)2006 Robert George