Well, the evening falls and the kids all come,

They're at the door with their daughters and sons,

The house fills up and the fiddles come out,

The banjos twang and the grandkids shout;

The mandolins ring and the guitars strum,

Ma's at piano, and Grampa hums,

Everyone sings, and their feet all move

In this time-worn, hearth-warm, people-filled room.

 

Evening at home 'tween the valley and peaks,

It's heaven for sure and a place of peace;

A fam'ly of friends that goes on forever,

Anchored right here like a horse's tether.

 

Ten children scattered all over the West,

But they're drawn right back to this place of rest,

They all bring their wives and their husbands too,

With grandkids, little kids, babies brand new.

The farm and the woods and the lakes and crests

Have branded a mem'ry in each child's breast;

For this home and farm and fam'ly each yearns,

And infects his spouse, each one in turn.

 

Evening at home 'tween the valley and peaks,

It's heaven for sure and a place of peace;

A fam'ly of friends that goes on forever,

Anchored right here like a horse's tether.

 

With mandolin, fiddle, banjo and bass,

With singing and laughing it's a wild place,

Where everyone comes and they all gather,

The outside world doesn't seem to matter.

It's a house that breathes, and a home that loves

That'll carry on to the realms above;

It's love and music and being together,

And what's even better—it goes on forever.

 

 

—James E. Kerns

2005