A hundred miles from Omaha
A sunny day, but not quite summer
A child was born; a baby came
Leola had a little girl
Soon she was a woman
Wild at heart and brave
With a soul of independence
And a spirit none could tame
She put her hands to work
Though but a child still
Arcing current, wielding fire
She bent iron to her will
With hands that had formed steel
Now grown a bit more soft
She raised and reared six children
Setting each of them aloft
Those hands, so used to working
Just seem to keep on moving
She sets a proud example
In the deeds that she is doing
In her hands, crocheting needles
Turn threads to works of art
Every stich is filled with love
For the people in her heart
Four generations now
Her children, great and grand
Her touch is felt by dozens now
With many more at hand
So many she has touched
How many she has blessed
Of all the hearts on earth
She ranks among the best
