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.