By Original Work
Just then %s aunt fanny,
We chased a hen through the mud,
With ain't it rich in our hearts,
And ain't it rich.
Through fields of green we roam,
Where echoes softly call,
The soul finds a home,
And gentle shines through all.
Let laughter fill the air,
And warmth fill our souls,
For moments beyond compare,
And memories that never grow old.
So chased a hen and pray, friends,
With ain't it rich filling each day,
Till songs guide us home again,
And we find our home for aye.
CC0 License
This song is released under CC0 (Public Domain Dedication). You may use it for any purpose, including commercially.