I sit on my back porch and hear br Those lonesome turtle doves. br Sweet memories ever flood my mind, br Of long lost dreams and loves. br br Country born and country reared, br I walked those cedared hills; br With moon as guide, I oft would hear br Those hooting owls and whippor-wills. br br We hoed the corn and milked the cows, br Twas work most all the time; br We ate those ripe tomatoes, br Just picked from off the vine. br br We fished and swam the streams and ponds, br Whenever chores were through; br With crops afield and animals, br Those moments were to few. br br Our home was plain and simple, br It had no modern frills. br It was a haven to us all, br Set amid those pleasant hills. br br Nostalgia grips us all at times.