Then it was dust in illinois a small boy After an afternoon of carting dung hung On a rail fence a sapped thing weary to cry Dark was growing tall He began to hear the pond frogs All calling on his ear They were calling on his ear with what seemed their joy Soon the sound was pleasent for a boy listening in the smoky dusk and the nightfall of illinois and from the fields two small boys came bearing cornstalk violins So they rubbed their cornstalk bows with resins and the three just sat there scraping of the joy, of the joy They're scraping of the joy It was now fine music The frogs and thre boys did In the towering illinois twilight make and into dark In spite of a shoulders ache a boys hunched body loved out of stalk The first song of his happiness and the song woke his heart into the darkness and saddness and joy