Little poplar log house on the hill

Now kind friends I want to tell you
Of a little country home
It is made of poplar logs upon the hill
That's where poppa died and left us
When we were very young
And momma kept us settled on he hill

When our days work on the farm was done
She'd would gather us around
She would have us get down on our little knees
She would pray for God to keep us
Through the night until next
In our little old poplar log house on the hill

Our father died a good man
Which we all would like to do
And I'm going there to see him some old day
When I'm get through with my singing
Lay my guitar by my side
Lord I want to play in heaven when I die