Pennsylvania Memories
By John Hickman
The wind through the trees
Blows memories through my mind.
I think of happy days
When there were better times.
When I was young and free
Growing up on the farm
With Mamma in the kitchen
Baking bread and keeping warm.
The summers of my youth
Seem hotter than today
The air smelled so sweet
When Dad was baling hay.
And when the darkness fell
Behind the rolling hills
We were chasing fireflies
Down by the old gristmill.
A Pennsylvania boy
In fields of stone and lime
With wonder in his eyes
Of things heís yet to find.
With stories of his life
The way it used to be
Another place and time
His heart will always be.
Oh, you canít go home
To a house that isnít there.
But I can close my eyes
And pretend that I am there.
For in my mind Iíve got
Memories to spare
But you canít go home
To a house that isnít there.
No, you canít go home
To a house that isnít there.