Poppa's Will

Morning sunrise I sat on a pasture hill

Was there reading Poppas will

His words were very few

In the early morning dew

Morning dew

My sons who wont see me anymore

Morning turned to nite for sure

Pauper, pilot, preacher who I write this for

Write this for

Be Humble, fly the jet

Rightly warn of sins not yet

Blackfoot mountain, the pastures there

Is what you share

Drop my ashes at Blackfoot when it rains

Let it fall from the piper plane

Pauper, pilot, preacher with my name

My name

My name