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There will be an answer... let it be
If you have not heard this song, then you are missing something beautiful.
Olde Tyme Mem’ry
When father bought the farm we sold the farm
Mistook his blood for rustic charm
Sold his ghost as an antique to the city.
Kids today can’t hold a spade
Rest in peace y’ole weary trades
In this world there is no place, such a pity.
Well the barman shakes his head and fills my glass
Says we’re living in the past
Why preserve a dying craft, end its misery.
We sigh and say another modern man
One of property not land
So I’ll out this battered hand, will you listen?
Come sit down we’re lamenting
About yesterday’s sad ending
‘bout the water in me whiskey
The brass passed off as gold.
Another round we’re descending
Into olde tyme mem’ry
Of a day when wood was wooden,
Silver, silver, gold was gold
Sweet home was home.
So you say you got a wood stove in your second home
Runs on gas but looks like oak
Hell it even gives off smoke and glowing embers.
There’s a quilt hung on the wall reads home sweet home
Below some wise words from Thoreau
And they call me a throwback when I cry, remember.
Come sit down we’re lamenting
About yesterday’s sad ending
‘bout the water in me whiskey
The brass passed off as gold.
Another round we’re descending
Into olde tyme mem’ry
Of a day when wood was wooden,
Silver, silver, gold was gold
Sweet home was home.
Son these tools are artifacts
Endangered species left its tracks
So lock me up behind plastic glass in the city.
There’s no going back for me
This antique’s rustic eulogy
Shall be sold as folk artistry, such a pity.
But I’ll never understand
Why they all long to use those hands
To build a stead that will always stand
In olde tyme country
But settle for white rooms and hollow doors
Paper ceilings padded floors
Luxury boxes where you’re stored
In what was country.
Ah, come sit down we’re lamenting
About yesterday’s sad ending
‘bout the water in me whiskey
The brass passed off as gold.
Another round we’re descending
Into olde tyme mem’ry
Of a day when wood was wooden,
Silver, silver, gold was gold -
Another round, we’re lamenting
About yesterday’s sad ending
‘bout the water in me whiskey
The brass passed off as gold.
Another round we’re descending
Into olde tyme mem’ry
Of a day when wood was wooden,
Silver, silver, gold was gold
Sweet home was home…
Olde Tyme Mem’ry
When father bought the farm we sold the farm
Mistook his blood for rustic charm
Sold his ghost as an antique to the city.
Kids today can’t hold a spade
Rest in peace y’ole weary trades
In this world there is no place, such a pity.
Well the barman shakes his head and fills my glass
Says we’re living in the past
Why preserve a dying craft, end its misery.
We sigh and say another modern man
One of property not land
So I’ll out this battered hand, will you listen?
Come sit down we’re lamenting
About yesterday’s sad ending
‘bout the water in me whiskey
The brass passed off as gold.
Another round we’re descending
Into olde tyme mem’ry
Of a day when wood was wooden,
Silver, silver, gold was gold
Sweet home was home.
So you say you got a wood stove in your second home
Runs on gas but looks like oak
Hell it even gives off smoke and glowing embers.
There’s a quilt hung on the wall reads home sweet home
Below some wise words from Thoreau
And they call me a throwback when I cry, remember.
Come sit down we’re lamenting
About yesterday’s sad ending
‘bout the water in me whiskey
The brass passed off as gold.
Another round we’re descending
Into olde tyme mem’ry
Of a day when wood was wooden,
Silver, silver, gold was gold
Sweet home was home.
Son these tools are artifacts
Endangered species left its tracks
So lock me up behind plastic glass in the city.
There’s no going back for me
This antique’s rustic eulogy
Shall be sold as folk artistry, such a pity.
But I’ll never understand
Why they all long to use those hands
To build a stead that will always stand
In olde tyme country
But settle for white rooms and hollow doors
Paper ceilings padded floors
Luxury boxes where you’re stored
In what was country.
Ah, come sit down we’re lamenting
About yesterday’s sad ending
‘bout the water in me whiskey
The brass passed off as gold.
Another round we’re descending
Into olde tyme mem’ry
Of a day when wood was wooden,
Silver, silver, gold was gold -
Another round, we’re lamenting
About yesterday’s sad ending
‘bout the water in me whiskey
The brass passed off as gold.
Another round we’re descending
Into olde tyme mem’ry
Of a day when wood was wooden,
Silver, silver, gold was gold
Sweet home was home…
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(Anonymous) 2005-01-13 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)http://www.livejournal.com/community/real_x_beauty/
no subject
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