Matthew

I had an uncle named Matthew.
He was his father's only boy.
Born just south of Colby, Kansas.
He was his mother's pride and joy.

Yes, and joy was just a thing that he was raised on.
Love was just a way to live and die.
Gold was just a windy Kansas wheat field.
Blue was just a Kansas summer sky.

And all the stories that he told me,
Back when I was just a lad.
And all the memories that he gave me
Of all the good times that he'd had.

Growing up a Kansas farm boy,
Life was mostly having fun,
Riding on his daddy's shoulders,
Behind a mule, beneath the sun.

Yes, and joy was just a thing that he was raised on.
Love was just a way to live and die.
Gold was just a windy Kansas wheat field.
Blue was just a Kansas summer sky.

Well, I guess there were some hard times,
And I'm told some years were lean.
There was a storm in'47.
A twister came and stripped him clean.

He lost his farm, he lost his family.
He lost his wheat, he lost his home.
But he found the family Bible,
And faith as solid as a stone.

Yes, and joy was just a thing that he was raised on.
Love was just a way to live and die.
Gold was just a windy Kansas wheat field.
Blue was just a Kansas summer sky.

And so he came to live at our house,
And he came to work the land.
He came to ease my daddy's burden,
And he came to be my friend.

And so, I wrote this down for Matthew.
It's for him this song is sung.
Riding on his daddy's shoulders,
Behind a mule, beneath the sun.

Yes, and joy was just a thing that he was raised on.
Love was just a way to live and die.
Gold was just a windy Kansas wheat field.
Blue was just a Kansas summer sky