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"Who will watch the homeplace"

Leaves are falling and turning in showers of gold
as the postman climbs up our long hill
and there's sympathy written all over his face
as he hands me a couple more bills


Who will watch the home place,
who will tend my heart's dear space
Who will fill my empty place,
when I am gone from here

There's a lovely green nook by a clear-running stream
It was my place when I was quite small
and its creatures and sounds could sooth my worst pains
But today they don't ease me at all

In my grandfather's shed there are hundreds of tools
I know them by feel and by name
and like parts of my body they've patched this old place
When I move them they won't be the same

Now I wander around, touching each blessed thing
The chimney, the table, the trees
and my memories swirl'round me like birds on the wing
When I leave here, oh who will I be

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