This old house in which I live whispers secrets in my ear
These rafters sheltered settlers long gone but seem quite near
In the kitchen I’ve caught the smell of freshly baking bread
Seen toffee apples all lined up dipped and shiny red
I saw a woman stooped and bent older than her years
Busy working, always working, she has no time for tears
In a bedroom down the hall that looks out across back
I found a note all rolled up and hidden in a crack
‘I’m goin off to do me bit and kick the Kaisers bum
I know I never prayed before, but please look after mum.’
In the bathroom on the wall there’s a broken old brass hook
Where once there hung a razor strap, you can see should you look
I’ve heard the sound of splashing from kids in that old bath
Did they dry themselves and giggle by the open fire hearth
Some nights when it’s late and I lay quiet in my bed
I hear a mother’s quiet sobs. Her soldier son lays dead
And in the parlor often there’s a piano’s happy tune
Someone plays a banjo and others try to croon
The old apple tree still wears a scar where once there was a swing
And in the washhouse behind the copper, I chanced upon a ring
A tiny golden band worn so thin from years of toil
I’ve heard her singing softly as she brings the clothes to boil
There's been joy and tears of sorrow of that it seems so clear
You see, this old house in which I live whispers secrets in my ear.
