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