Monroe County
The old Canal slips lazily beneath the willow trees,
Where the fields are green all summer and the corn grows oh-so-sweet.
Now I am returning to the house my Grandpa built
Why was I so far away the summer he fell ill?
Some other life, some other time,
across the Monroe County Line.
It’s often said if walls could talk, what stories they could tell
Standing in his kitchen, I recall them all so well
The two of us enjoying lunch with the lilacs all in bloom
I’d share with him my hopes and dreams,
he’d say, “Don’t grow up too soon.”
Some other life, some other time
across the Monroe County Line.
But I was born with wanderlust, I had to go out in the world
He said, “wherever this life takes you, you’ll always be my little girl.
“May these cornfields always whisper,
‘welcome home, welcome home…'”
Kneeling by his graveside, I weep for that dear man
For buried here beneath me now, my roots are in this land.
Some other life, some other time, beyond the Monroe County Line
(Hold me, Monroe County, just once more before I go.
The only one who knows me doesn’t live here anymore.)
Some other life, some other time…
(c) Kevin Higgins & Barbara Malteze