I was born in this country village
It is my own, my native land
Oh! I love old Academia
To the tiniest grit of sand.

All the folks that live and die there
With their hearts so strong and true
Have a special place provided
In the sky so clear and blue.

The splendor of the waters
With reflections of the skies
Is like a bit of heaven
And the land of paradise.

The woods with all their glory
Stand with beauty dark and deep
With everlasting loyalty
To the secrets that they keep.

Sing and the hills will answer
With echoes loud and clear
Laugh and God laughs with you
Because He put this village here.

To the very last point of vision
And far, so far beyond
You can hear the natural warble
Of birds in never failing bond.

The lowing cattle move slowly in the field
The Farmer homeward plods his weary way
And leaves the fields to darkness of the night
So he can rest and start another day.

Beneath the rugged trees that furnish shade
Heaves of earth in mounds do heap
Each in a narrow cell forever laid
The great Forefathers of this village sleep.

I'll always return to this village
As memories of youth never cease
The beauty, it thrills me with wonder
The stillness, it thrills me with peace.
Credit to: James E. Reisinger, Sr.
Harrisburg, PA