I prefer a country road,

That winds through wood and weed,

To walk or run or ride along,

It’s all I really need.

 

I prefer a cloudy sky,

To one that’s perfect clear,

A kaleidescope of sun and mist

A thunder storm to fear.

 

I prefer the season’s change,

To monotonous summer air.

The wind in spring, the leaves in fall,

And even winter’s wear.

 

I prefer the way we live

Along the northern tier,

The variety of seasons

To mark each passing year.

 

For every tropical paradise,

Though perfect and serene

Is safe and comfortable but,

Too simple and routine. 

 

And I prefer a country road,

A lane through wood and weed,

To walk or run or ride along,

It’s all I really need.