| I left a four lane highway took a black top seven miles down by the
|
| old country school I went to as a child. |
| Three miles down the gravel
|
| road I could see a proud old home. |
| A tribute to a way of life that’s
|
| almost come and gone.
|
| The roots of my raising run deep. |
| I’ve come back for the strength
|
| that I need. |
| And hope comes no matter how far down I sink.
|
| The roots of my raising run deep.
|
| I pulled up in the driveway, and boy is sure was good to be there
|
| and through the open door I could see that dad was asleep in his
|
| favorite chair. |
| In his hand was a picture of mom and I remember
|
| how close they were, so I just turned away. |
| I didn’t want to wake
|
| him, spoil his dreams of her.
|
| A christian mom who had the strength for life the way she did.
|
| Then to pull that apron off and do the Charleston for us kids.
|
| Dad, a quiet man, whose gentle voice was seldom heard,
|
| who could borrow money at the back simply on his word.
|
| The roots of my raising run deep. |
| I’ve come back for the strength
|
| that I need. |
| And hope comes no matter how far down I sink.
|
| The roots of my raising run deep.
|
| The roots of my raising run deep. |