Written by David Mallett, of Dover Foxcroft, Maine (who also wrote "The Garden Song"), about visiting a farm quite like the one where he was raised (though the original one burned). This appears through the courtesy of Dave and Neworld Records (Blue Hill Falls, Maine), whose new release contains this and many more of Dave's songs. (G.B.J I first heard Dave Mallett's song · during a period in my life when my own childhood home, back in Michigan, was being sold. I was having a series of nightly dream battles where I fought constantly to save the home which will always be mine. This song stirred my memories, focused my feelings, and helped me deal with that curious internal trauma - a trauma which I've since discovered many listeners share with me . ( A.M )
I knew this place, I knew it well,
Every sound and every smell,
And every time I walked I fell
For the first two years or so.
There across the grassy yard,
I, a young one, running hard,
Brown and bruised and battle-scarred
And lost in·sweet illusion.
And from my window I can see
The branches of an ancient tree;
Reaching out, it calls to me
To climb its surly branches.
But all my climbing days are gone,
And these tired legs I'm standing on
Would scarcely dare to leave the spot
Upon which they are standing.
And I remember every word
Of every voice I ever heard,
Every frog and every bird -
Yes, this is where it starts.
My brother's laugh, the sighing wind:
This is where my life begins,
This is where I learned to use
My hands and hear my heart.
This house is old, it carries on
Like verses to an old-time song,
Always changed, but never gone,
This house can stand the seasons
Our lives pass on from door to door,
Dust across the wooden floor;
Like feather rain and thunder roar,
We need not know the reason.
And, as these thoughts come back
to me
Like ships across the friendly sea,
Like breezes blowing endlessly,
Like rivers running deep -
The day is done, the lights are low,
The wheels of life are turning slow,
And, as these visions turn and go,
I lay me down to sleep.
I knew this place, I knew it well,
Every sound and every smell,
And every time I walked I fell
For the first two years or so.
The day is done, the lights are low,
The wheels of life are turning slow,
And, as these visions turn and go,
I lay me down to sleep.