Across this proud and ancient land,
By the waters running clear,
A house is stood all part of it,
For near two hundred years.
On each return I walk the road,
A greenway path I trace,
Here I'm always strangely drawn,
Towards this humble place.
I climb the steep and narrow steps,
Unlock the door from where I live,
Whenever I'm home,
I'm glad to be back once again,
Whenever I go,
I will miss you here my friend.
Inside all newly painted walls,
The ceiling, bent and drawn,
A high back chair, an old stone floor,
Uneven now and worn.
There's a jar of roses brightly set,
Across the window rail,
Barring fragrance through the kitchen door,
There's a calmness does prevail.
For the air is cool and strangely still,
And a welcome voice within I feel.
Whenever I'm home,
I'm glad to be back once again,
Whenever I go,
I will miss you here my friend,
I will miss you here my friend.
There's a marble frame across the fire,
A clock that chimes farewell,
A weathered warning sounds each day,
But now just faintly tells.
Outside the sun shines through the glass,
It stains each resting soul,
Contented eyes, they sleep inside,
As the embers gently glow.
For the air is warm and strangely still,
And a welcome voice within I feel.
Whenever I'm home,
I'm glad to be back once again,
Whenever I go,
I will miss you here my friend,
Whenever I'm home,
I'm glad to be back once again,
Whenever I go,
I will miss you here my friend,
I will miss you here my friend.

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