Chopping Wood

From the time I was a little girl For as long as I can remember We had a giant woodpile From January through December My dad chopped and stacked wood And I loved to help with it all I'm sure I didn't always do it right Beside my dad so handsome and tall But it was a time that we shared I just loved to hear him talk About the years when he was growing up Down that bygone path we'd walk And when I grew up and had kids I too would have a wood pile A solitary job it was For I was a widow after awhile The past brings me such pleasure And I've always understood A lifetime of memories were created While I was chopping wood!