THE TOWN WHERE I WAS BORN © 2002 E. J. Wahl

In the town where I was born
There stands a church, ever so tall
We used to walk by, every day, on the way to school
But now it’s a strange place
What this little boy saw
Could it still be the same

    On a street of cobble stone
    There’d be people walking and I’d be alone
    In the park, where the flowers bloom,
    The old man gardener is carting his tools
    Down a ways, the river flows
    Between ancient buildings and some not so old
    And the bells keep ringing, loud and clear
    As they have done for some eight hundred years
    
    Friendly faces bid me hello
    A puzzled moment, it’s someone I know
    A long time ago, these pictures were taken
    People have changed but their image remains
    Every minute, of every year
    That has passed me by while I wasn’t here
    Has left its mark on every stone
    And the faces of the people that I used to know
    Oh no

        My uncle died
        My aunt, how she cried
        My aunt, she died
        My mom, how she cried
        They don’t live here any more
        They don’t live here any more