January back in '55 we rode a Greyhound bus through the Georgia midnight
Grandpa was sleeping and the winter sky was clear
We hit a bump and his head jerked back a little and he mumbled something
He woke up smiling, but his eyes were bright with tears
Said, "I dreamed I was back on the farm
20 years have passed, boy, but the memory still warms me
Wildflowers in a Mason Jar"
He told me those old stories about that one-room cabin in Kentucky
The smell of the rain and the warm earth in his hands
He slowly turned and stared outside; his face was mirrored in the window
And his reflection flew across the moonlit land
And he dreamed he was back on the farm
Tilts his head and listens to the early sound of morning
Wildflowers in a Mason Jar
An old man and an eight-year-old boy rolling down that midnight highway
Kentucky memories 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 corn
Wildflowers in a Mason Jar
Wildflowers in a Mason Jar
Wildflowers in a Mason Jar"
And the bus rolled through the night