Get among the acres,
In a lonely distant land;
Lived an old man in a house,
Out in the country where he turned his hand.
It was a worthy property,
From nation far and wide;
Old Sidney Jones and company
The old man's house and pride.
Each morning he would tend the cows,
And feed the chicks and hens;
The rooster would give their morning crow,
And he'd check the sheep left in their pens.
And then this little smoky,
The gray kitten he left behind;
Old Sydney from Longley,
Went on and left his soul and mind.
He turned his hand to farming,
And build a shed or two;
The property and his patience,
Would earn a car or two.
The old man's house still standing,
In this hearty mountain land;
There's not much left to speak of,
But Sidney's house with my pen in hand.
Signed,
Near the top of the hill
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