Prairie Funeral

It was a funeral on the prairie, all his children gathered round

Put him in a horse drawn wagon, drove him into town

In the dark of February snow covered up the ground

In a pioneer church made out of sod we sang A Mighty Fortress Is Our God

He was born in 1898 when the plains burned red and green

To God fearing pilgrim parents, the twelfth kid of thirteen

They broke up that ground yard by yard with a mule and an oxen team

Now we’re burying him out on the lone prairie

Where the coyotes howl and the wind blows free

Back at the house we pushed that big oak table against the wall

Made a fire in the cast iron cook stove, made room for one and all

The children and grandchildren piling snow boots in the hall

The women worked like an oiled machine

The coffee boiled and the kettle screamed

Then the old folks took to telling tales of back when they were young

And it weren't too long before that four string banjo began to strum

Mom played the fiddle and my Uncle Lars played his accordion

The old farmers cried in their flannel sleeves

When we sang that song from the old country

That was long ago and as the years go by I still forget he’s gone

But I look out on the open plains and I know his soul lives on

He’s the red sky mirrored on the lake, he’s the first cold light of dawn

He’s a coyote’s wail, he’s a winter storm

He’s the August wind blowing through the corn