Fields of Three Bases

There's a dusty glove sitting on the shelf And a wooden bat

that he carved himself By the river bank where the water flows

I can see his tracks

in the summer mud (mmmmm)

Oh, he was running home on a dusty diamond trail

Casting lines at dawn,

watching eagles sail

In the quiet woods with his rifle in his hand

Now he's hunting stars

in another land

Found his favorite lure

in the tackle box

Underneath the pine by the canyon rocks

Every breath of wind speaks his name out loud

I can see him smile standing tall and proud

Oh, he was running home on a dusty diamond trail

Casting lines at dawn,

watching eagles sail

In the quiet woods with his rifle in his hand

Now he's hunting stars in another land

I'll remember you

Every cast

Every swing of the bat (my boy)