I often heard stories from my aunts and uncles about my Dad's childhood; about how terribly poor they were in the farmlands of Southern Idaho; about bathing in the cow's water trough; about having no electricity and more. The one that stuck with me the most was about how they only had one coal oil lamp to light their house. As the girls grew and boys would come to call, the lamp had to stay where the young couple was and so everyone else in the house had to be in the dark. I thought about that little coal oil lamp and all it must have witnessed. When I read my grandmother's journal, I learned that these stories were not just family myths, but were actually true. That's when I knew I had to write a song about that lamp.
Lyrics
At a farmhouse in Southern Idaho, where the winters came in hard
Eleven kids with hand-me-downs and work boots worn and scarred
Their daddy turned the borrowed soil, their mama held the line
And all they had to light the night was one old lamp that shined
It burned through every season, on the piano's fading keys
While they filled the night with melodies that drifted on the breeze
She’d read to them from scripture, while the shadows danced along
And stitched the threads of family with a coal oil flame and song
By the light of that lamp, they learned to read and pray
By the light of that lamp, they sang the dark away
It lit the path through hunger, through the cold and through the damp
Their world was small, their hearts were full
By the light of that lamp
A boy would come to court a girl and sit with nervous hands
While others watched from corners dark, not far from where he stands
The lamp stayed in the parlor, so the rest would do without
But love and life kept finding ways to grow and blossom out
By the light of that lamp, they dreamed and made their plans
By the light of that lamp, they grew with heart and hands
It lit their Sunday table and their mother’s calloused hands
Their lives were shaped, their souls were fed
By the light of that lamp
And though the years have taken them to cities, fields, and wars
That gentle glow still flickers on behind remembered doors
For every child who found their way and lit a flame anew
Carries just a spark of what that little lamp once knew
By the light of that lamp, the fire was passed along
By the light of that lamp, they found where they belong
And now their children’s children stand, with steady flames in hand
Because one family found their way—
By the light of that lamp