Lucille, Willis and Me

Okobojo was the name of their Dakota ghost town 
Where the Greens and the Kennedys were known and renown
Where Willis and Lucille spent their formative years
In the valley of their ancestors the Okobojo pioneers 

The Okobojo ground it was dusty and it was dried
Most farmers gave up but a few stayed there and died
They’re buried up yonder on Hugh McGannon’s hill 
Many a friend and relative of Willis and Lucille

Green’s Acre was the name of his Grandfather’s rolling spread
Where generations had gleaned sustenance from Okobojo’s stingy bed 
They farmed it and they raised cattle but the ground it turned to dust
Then came the dirty thirties when everybody went bust

Being raised there in that valley they couldn’t ever go
So they moved back and back again to the home at Okobojo
I wish I would have known Great Uncle Willis in his prime
Bustin’ broncos and runnin’ mail around on horseback sometime

I visited them on the prairie in nineteen-hundred seventy
Cowboy coffee in the bunkhouse and in the house it was tea
Their goose chased me round the yard snappin’ at my seat 
Little did I know it was the only time we’d ever meet

My heart was touched profoundly when I read the other day
That Willis’ friend and lover Lucille had passed away
I was five when I met her so the vision’s hard to see
I wish I could remember Aunt Lucille, Uncle Willis and me