Leaves are falling and turning to showers of gold
As the postman climbs up our long hill
And theres sympathy written all over his face
As he hands me a couple more bills
Who will watch the home place
Who will tend my hearts dear space
Who will fill my empty place
When I am gone from here
Theres a lovely green nook by a clear-running stream
It was my place when I was quite small
And its creatures and sounds could soothe my worst pains
But today they dont ease me at all
In my grandfathers shed there are hundreds of tools
I know them by feel and by name
And like parts of my body theyve patched this old place
When I move them they wont be the same
Now I wander around touching each blessed thing
The chimney the tables the trees
And my memories swirl round me like birds on the wing
When I leave here oh who will I be