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The house on Fishy Lake Road
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Stands on the brow of the hill
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Her timbers are weathered and grey
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Her rooms are empty and still
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No warmth from a welcoming fire
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Beckons this traveller home
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The wind from the range whistles through
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Whipping round timber and stone
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Chorus... Tell me your story
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If it can be told
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I know you've not always been empty and cold
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Whisper it softly let it unfold
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And tell me the story of
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The house on Fishy Lake Road
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And what of the ones who lived here
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You sheltered through weal and through woe
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The souls that drew breath in your walls
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Who are they and where did they go?
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Chorus...
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|
|
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The House on Fishy Lake Road
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| Colin Buchanan |
