Under the Green of the Trees

Eamon Friel Cop. Con

I am a stranger gone from this place
All of these years you’ve forgotten my face
It’s been a lonely road here said he
The winds of the world and the waves of the sea
Bring me today like a ghost from the past
Here to your door do you know me at last
Maybe you know me and maybe you think me dead
Tell me you know me he said
Maybe you know me and maybe you think me dead
How could I not know you she said

It is spring and there are banks of primroses
And the swallows swing in the breeze
And the two lovers they kiss long and lonesome
Under the green of the trees

There was no danger I would forget
Johnny I loved you and I love you yet
And I remember the morning you’d gone
Whisper of stars in the sky in the dawn
I saw the mist on the hill in the cold
Holding the sun in a great web of gold
All the world woven of golden and silver thread
Golden and silver she said
All the world woven of golden and silver thread
I’ve gold and I’ve silver he said

I can remember the old woman still
The house where she lived the far side of the hill
Her husband was dead but the story was told
Long ago he’d come home with American gold
It’s not the same place I recall as a child
The roof’s tumbled in and the garden’s gone wild
I stop in the rain and imagine a different day
Under this grim sky of grey
Here in the rain I imagine a different day
Maybe the first day of May