January back in fifty-five we rode a greyhound bus through the georgia midnight Granpa was sleeping and the winter sky was clear We hit a gump and his head jerked back a little and he mumbled something He woke up smiling but his eyes were bright with tears He said i dreamed i was back on the farm Twenty years have passed boy but the memory still reminds me Wild flowers in the mason jar He told me those old stories bout that one room cabin in kentucky The smell of rain and the feel of the warm earth in his hands He slowly turned and stared outside his face was mirrored in the window And his reflections flew across the moonlight land And he dreamed he was back on the farm He tilts his head and listens to the early sounds of morning Wild flowers in a mason jar An old man and an eight year old boy rolling down that midnight highway Warm kentucky mem'ries from a winter georgia night I started drifting off and grandpa tucked his coat around me I think i tried to smile as i slowly closed my eyes And i dreamed i was with him on the farm Grandpa i can hear the evening wind out in the tall corn Wild flowers in a mason jar Wild flowers in a mason jar and the bus rolled through the night