Currants to Crossroads

Old David looked out

through the valley of green

At the smallest patch of land that he had ever seen He

said goodbye to Germany,

packed up his heavy design

To plant the black currant

on a brand new horizon

He chased the sun across the ocean deep

With a dream in his chest that he promised to keep

To the rolling plains where the wild winds blow Wisconsin soil is

where the berries will grow

From the old Ford pickup on a dirt-road track

To the Peterbilt diesel with the chrome on its back

We’re bringing black currants to the sweet prairie air

Making them American, growing them there (oh-oh-oh)

He started out small

in the midwestern clay

Fighting the frost

at the break of the day

But those deep purple clusters,

they took to the land

Raised up by the strength

of a hard-working hand

From the old Ford pickup on a dirt-road track

To the Peterbilt diesel with the chrome on its back

We’re bringing black currants to the sweet prairie air

Making them American, growing them there

Now the Peterbilt rolls through the Wisconsin night

Heavy with harvest under northern light

Yeah, David made it home (hmmmmm)