Little Poplar Log House On The Hill

Now kind friends I want to tell you Of a little country home It is made of poplar logs upon the hill That's where poppa died and left us When we were very young And momma kept us settled on he hill When our days work on the farm was done She'd would gather us around She would have us get down on our little knees She would pray for God to keep us Through the night until next In our little old poplar log house on the hill Our father died a good man Which we all would like to do And I'm going there to see him some old day When I'm get through with my singing Lay my guitar by my side Lord I want to play in heaven when I die