Under an old oak, where the wild breezes blow,
There's a kind of peace only country hearts know.
No hurry, no worries, no place to be,
Just horses and sunshine and an old shade tree.
The hay smells sweet, the world feels right,
And troubles grow smaller in the soft daylight.
No riches, no diamonds, no fancy things,
Could ever replace the joy this brings.
For the older I get, the more I see,
The best things in life have always been free.
~ Peach