Ditmore4

John Henry Ditmore had a farm long ago
In west Oklahoma outside of Hydro
He grew his own groceries, he had a good life
He was given 12 children by his good-lovin' wife
Their son, Glen, born eighteen ninety and nine
Would later become a grandfather of mine
Glen married Mable of the Pennington clan
They lived on the homestead and they worked the land
Granddad played fiddle on saturday night
Uncle Orval strummed guitar by kerosene light
They'd roll up the carpet as the guests came around
All the cousins would dance to an Okie sundown
So my mother grew up in a musical way
She learned the piano at a most early age
"Napoleon's Last Charge" always swept me away
as I sat there beside her to help turn the page.

I picked up a guitar when I was sixteen
I learned me some chords and some songs and some thangs
My Okie roots they run deep and run wide
The blood in my veins is the source of my pride
So the next time you find yourself pushing a cart
Loaded with groceries at the big super-mart
Stop and remember for a moment or tow
Great-granddad's and grandmothers who bred me and you
A plane crash in India took Orval's life
He had joined up to fight in the World War II strife
Granddad's gone, too, but his memory lives on
In the eyes of my children and the words of this song