#136 SHOTGUN SHACK ON DEAD TREE LANE
#136 SHOTGUN SHACK ON DEAD TREE LANE
(Americana)
(DEMO)
(Full Arrangement)
Parked by the old house, memories flood back in.
First day school bus, Ma whispers "No crying!"
Reminds me no shame our home's on a road,
Named after an oak tree dying.
First day of school surprised me -- a delight,
Got to take home books -- even better!
Classroom star non-stop through senior year,
Mailbox full of acceptance letters.
Eyes closed, yet still see so clearly...
Grey paint, white trim, hounds on the porch,
Tin roof rang out in heavy rain.
Summer games in the backyard shade,
Winter books by the woodstove flame.
My shotgun shack on Dead Tree Lane.
First semester of college a bit rough,
Top of all my classes, hard to make friends.
Friday night library -- card catalog,
Asked slow-poke if he's done, he says "That depends."
I sigh, bite my lip in frustration,
Stupid boy doing stupid boy stuff.
He turns, surprises with sparking brown eyes,
Suddenly I can't swallow -- start to blush.
Back from college, same somehow different...
Faded grey paint, hounds on the porch,
Tin roof now leaks in heavy rain.
Standing lonely in backyard shade,
Cooking meals by thin woodstove flame.
A shotgun shack on Dead Tree Lane.
Loved and lost that smart sweet boy from the library,
Learned the hard way pride made me contrary.
Life of discovery my great desire,
Professor for years -- agreed to climb higher.
Ma lived to see me make college president,
In tears she laughed, said "No crying!" -- knew what she meant.
Offered key to the city -- reason to come back,
Over thirty years since I last saw the shack.
Eyes open, my old house now before me...
No paint in years, collapsed front porch,
Tin roof rusted, letting in the rain.
Backyard trees cut down -- no longer shade,
CONDEMNED sign hanging by a chain.
That shotgun shack on Dead Tree Lane.