There is a Golden Valley you see, It's in a memory or perhaps a dream. Thick forest that were preserved with trust and high-ways that no mans anger could ever bust. That could be described as a dream. The neighbors always respected your land and if your cows got lose they would give you a hand. The Valley where horses could drop kick you to death. Where walls would fall with a single breath. and if you came back to late there was nothing left. Oh that valley of humble starts, now just a memory from where we depart, in that old wooden large cart.
