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This song is about a good friend I knew who was a prairie farmer in Illinois. His name was Olla Bashum. Olla used to tell me that if he could just get sixty harvests in he would feel that he had lived a good life. He passed before he could hear this song. I like to think he would approve of it.
Sixty Years by Chuck Roehm
Bent and slow he walks alone, out between the rows.
Raising his head he squints his eyes, looking out where the crops have grown.
Slowly bending and cupping his hands, he fills them with the ground.
A tear rolls down into the soil; it’s time to move to town.
60 years of harvests, enough for any man,
60 years of growing here with this fertile land.
Standing in the evening sun, shadows come to him.
He holds them dear and sees the time when he was tall and slim.
Feeling her hand reach out to him it wasn’t long ago.
His partner of so many years is there in the evening glow.
Harvests come, - harvests go, as the seasons flow.
A life given to the land, - lives within his Soul.
The cows are sold, the horses are gone, his old dog laid to rest.
The children are grown with cares of their own, they say it’s for the best.
Turning around and straightening himself, he walks with a purpose once more.
Knowing he did what he could, he’s ready for distant shores.
60 years of harvests, enough for any man,
60 years of growing here with this fertile land.
60 years of harvests, enough for any man,
60 years of growing here with this fertile land.
