The Old Roots
Written by Jack Sundrud and Craig Bickhardt

When the spirit of place calls
Time gives you a strange pause
Like misty returnings
Up the stream of days

Where I lived among good folks
Who sheltered like tall oaks
My tender and green ways
Till I came of age

The old roots, the old roots
Carry me back to the old roots
With old clay on my boots
I’ll never stray far from the old roots

Wind’s tossing me gently
On the branches of memory
Sweet cradle of kinship
Rocks me in my dreams

The old house is still standing
The old Harvester’s Planting
The old stones are all gathered
Where the willow leans

The old roots, the old roots
Carry me back to the old roots
With old clay on my boots
I’ll never stray far from the old roots

Do-doot do- doot, the old roots
Carry me back to my old roots
Do-doot do- doot, the old roots
I’ll never stray far from the old roots