when I was a child my world extended,
just as far as my mother could see.
and sometimes I'd ask if I could go,
to the park across the street.
I'd sit on the freshly mown lawn and watch
the nieghborhood carrying on and watch
and listen and look for a telltale sign
of that beautiful friend of mine The man with the horse and wagon
the one who pa**ed by at noon day
I'd run to the horse and wagon
soI could hear him say...
Apples, peaches, fresh ripe pears
new strawberries, watermelon, cherries
and a flower for your young girls hair. But apron strings can't hold young wings
when the world becomes too small.
and a young man grown
must stand alone, if he will stand at all. On a cold gray day,an old man wanders
to the park across the street.
Gone are the trees,not a soul he sees,
no birds for him to feed.
I turn my back to the wind and stop.
I hear the far away clippity clop,
of a chestnut mare, in my minds eye,
I'm standing right behind....