Sun shines bright through cobweb leaves
Casting a light on the torn eaves
Window flaps in the summer breeze
On a bright clear summer morn
Reflecting back when I was young
To the kitchen where the rafters rang
'Twas many a fine old song was sang
In the house where I was born
Built with clay and rugged stone
With Thatchers' reed its roof was sown
Though fallen now, it's still my home
Like a rose among the thorns
The limestone floor where first I crept
The windy loft where first I...(more)
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