I hold my camera carefully
And guide it to my eye
As I see those famous red dirt roads
I’ve read about from that famous guy.
Yes, John McCornack is his name
And on his roads I sped
I understood right then and there
About all the things he’d said.
About his Oklahoma
And the brilliant crimson soil
With homesteads seeped with history
And the lives once filled with toil.
John’s pages are packed with memories
That we all have from our past
Our families too have suffered
To find home and family at last.
Those were difficult and trying times
Our ancestors had to undergo
We thank you, John, for your memories
For sharing the family that you love so.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem