Our family farm
Three miles west of Osakis
Third farm on the right
Past the two mile school house
Moving there in fifty-eight
At the age of eleven
I, the oldest
We children, totaling seven
Picking rock, baling hay
Milking cows every day
Living in the land of frost
Minnesota winter’s so cold
Now, fifty-five years later
We, the children gather
To recount memories
And to recreate a picture
Our humble farm
Now a must-see, tourist spot
All the buildings, so exquisite
Filled with treasure’s galore
A glorious place
Known far and wide
Crooked Willow
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