The Ash Grove
(source: "Rise Up Singing", Peter Blood and Annie Patterson, 1992.)
Thanks very much to Wendy Ann Wood and to Tammie, who
both sent me various verses to this song!
- The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly 'tis speaking
- The harp thro' it playing has language for me
- Whenever the light through its branches is breaking
- A host of kind faces is gazing on me.
The friends of my childhood again are before me
- Each step wakes a mem'ry as freely I roam
- With soft whispers laden its leaves rustle o'er me
- The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.
Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander
- When twilight is fading, I pensively rove
- Or at the bright moontide in solitude wander
- Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove.
'Tis there where the blackbird is cheerfully singing
- Each warbler enchants with his notes from a tree
- Ah then little think I of sorrow or sadness
- The ash grove entrancing spells beauty for me.
My laughter is over, my step loses lightness
- Old countryside measures steal soft on my ears
- I only remember the past and its brightness
- The dear ones I mourn for again gather here.
From out of the shadows their loving looks greet me
- And wistfully searching the leafy green dome
- I find other faces fond bending to greet me
- The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.