The Seasons - Roger Whittaker

In eighteen hundred ninety eight

Grandpa built a fence around the farm

And in that fence he put a gate

Behind the ate he put a road

That led up to a house of wood

That grandpa took a year to build

And when he done to him his house of wood looked good

Now the seasons come and the seasons go

Green follows brown sun follow snow

And trough it all he ploughed the land

He did it all with his own hand

In nineteen hundred and nine

Grandpa turned a girl into a wife

And in the turning took his time

Now with his wife he shared the load

And every day the work was done

And in a year within that house

She bore a child — his first and only one a son

Now the seasons come and the seasons go

Green follows brown sun follow snow

And trough it all he ploughed the land

He did it all with his own hand

Now gently lay him down to rest

Within the fence around the farm

Upon the hillside he loved best

I close the gate — I walk the road

That leads up to the house of wood

That grandpa took a year to build

And when I look — to me — his house of wood looks good

Now the seasons come and the seasons go

Green follows brown sun follow snow

And trough it all he ploughed the land

He did it all with his own hand