t was an old country church
White paint peelin’ bad
Sealed up tight as a drum
Makes me feel kinda sad

Quiet oh, just listen
The song of a meadowlark
Singing his lonesome song
And will till it’s pitch dark

Grass as brown as dust
Far as your eye can see
Don’t cut it any more
No animals to eat

A pond not far away
Still and shrinkin’ fast
Used to be a swimmin’ hole
But nothing ever lasts

But the old country church
Still has it’s share of charm
Once families came on Sunday
From the nearby country farms!

Marilyn Lott

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-country-church/