Grandma told us stories of the way it used to be;
When her Daddy got a piece of land amid the trees.
Her Momma started cryin',
then her Pappa started tryin' to explain.
He said, "The spruce will good timber
And we'll learn to work the land.
I will build a homestead with my heart and these two hands.
A shelter from the weather,
we'll be safe and warm together when it rains."

No we didn't have much money but we had alot of love;
Two rooms for twelve children
somehow seemed to be enough.
No, I wouldn't trade one moment of my youth
In the shadow of the Spruce.

Notice in those black and whites that people seldom smiled.
It's not that we were angry, just plum tuckered out and tired.
As long as the sun would linger
we would work our little fingers to the bone.
No microwave or TV, there was no electric heat.
Those Minnesota winters left you frozen to your seat.
With candle light for learnin'
we would keep that old stove burnin' in our home.

No we didn't have much money but we had alot of love;
Two rooms for twelve children
somehow seemed to be enough.
No, I wouldn't trade one moment of my youth
In the shadow of the Spruce.

Lumber camps and rivers that would rise up every Spring.
One room schools and
churches and her favorite hymns to sing.
We'd gather in the kitchen.
Just pull up a chair and listen and you'd learn.
That love is like a treasure that a man can never lose.
That's why you never wanted in the shadow of the Spruce.
Grandma, we'll remember.
Like a never ending ember it will burn.

No you didn't have much money but you had alot of love;
Two rooms for twelve children
somehow seemed to be enough.
Now I treasure all those memories of your youth
In the shadow of the Spruce