They have flowers in the meadow there Under bright blue skies And the clearest air Strongest dandelions Thick as thieves Who would ever dare To call them weeds? Not you or me As their roots grow down Searching through the ground For something to hold onto Like a stick or a stone Or even a bone That may have belonged to You or me There's a village down that valley road Just a mile past that great strong oak There's a bakery and a general store What a charming town Who could want for more? Not you or me Clearly That oak stood still through every storm Didn't move an inch Not a leaf was torn And when Death came To set us free That oak remained And so did we Beneath the tree As their roots grow down Searching through the ground For something to hold onto Like a stick or a stone Or even a bone That may have belonged to You or me Beneath the tree They have flowers in the meadow there Under bright blue skies And the clearest air Strongest dandelions Thick as thieves Who would ever dare To call them weeds?