| I felt her hand open in mine
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| It made me think of another time.
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| Sunday bells float through my house
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| On the steady wind that’s blowing to the south
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| Trails of smoke rise in the air
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| From the bonfires in the orchards
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| I see you standing on the stairs
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| And the house it roars like a shell.
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| And one thing that’s strange to me it seems
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| Is though you’re by the window
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| When the gate it Swings I feel your hand in mine.
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| Where the dry roots reach for the shallow stream
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| And on the hill the chapel lies
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| The bones of our families side by side
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| In crooked lines.
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| Down there beneath my house
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| In the vale there’s a man who’s wading
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| The water’s up around his waist
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| I see his face but I don’t hear what he’s saying
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| And now night falling down
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| Heavy as a cloth around your shoulders
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| I see you smile in faded light
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| So come to me Come to me. |