When God made these old green mountains And these valley's fresh and fair, He just put his seal upon them, You will find it everywhere. The north winds blow just a little keener, The grasses grow just a little greener, The mountain peaks rise a little higher, Where the snows last a little longer, Where the heart beat's just a little stronger and the handclasp is just a little warmer.This perfect day, with the bright blue sky and crisp air with a few fresh inches of snow, and the pond glistened, fir trees swayed in the north breeze; the girls come out to play, they never tire of taking a trip to the mountains, the mother, her two beautiful daughters and the other a cousin. Every year at this time December, they come to trim a fir tree, THE cousin does it in memory of all the ancestors who worked the fields, tilled the land from dusk to dawn. Harvested the hay field, carried sap from the maple trees to make maple syrup and picked and harvested fresh fruit from the orchard, The memories and tales are told over and over again and we would be nothing if it were not for ancestors and memories and who wouldn't want a chance to hear all the women with heads held high sing the praises to the sky. And when you come right down to it It doesn't get any better than this!
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