Hacker's Creek
Hackers Creek (By: Happy Stalnaker)
One Mile down an old dirt road, Mom and dad they took the load
Of raising eight little kids with one small job
He carried coal down off the hill, He dug it up with one small till
and he worked at a place they called king knob
Now they never did have Money, But we always had love
And they taught us all about the lord above
They taught us how to hold our own and showed us things we'd a never known,
but most of all they taught us how to love
He held his own with his two hands And on that farm he took a stand,
And he never did let no-one put us down.
Every Sunday we'd get up, Mamma She would dress us up
and they'd take us to a church outside of town
Now they never did have Money, But we always had love
And they taught us all about the lord above
They taught us how to hold our own and showed us things we'd a never known,
but most of all they taught us how to love
Old Guitars, Friendly folks, Picking Blue Grass and telling jokes
Just a couple of things my dad always called fun,
She cook and cleaned and kept us fed, We'd go to school She'd make our beds,
Just a couple of thing My Mamma Always done
Now they never did have Money, But we always had love
And they taught us all about the lord above
They taught us how to hold our own and showed us things we'd a never known,
Writer/s: Happy Stainaker