| Way back home in the wild woods of my past
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| I ask what became of the lads and the friends
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| From school days gone by, gone by
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| I hope they all turned out alright
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| I remember the winding of the road that goes
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| To that old farm in Hubbard
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| And the old stone driveway doesn’t seem quite as long
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| It’s here that I learned my first song
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| There’s a warmth in a mother’s love for her child
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| She smiles as she chases fear away
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| And the boy feels very glad, oh so glad
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| And bravely runs to the woods to play
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| See the old red barn standing there
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| Just the same, the same as it did so long ago
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| And the water pump that took a part of me
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| Started me reliving that day when I was four
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| Way back home in the childhood of my past
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| I ask what becomes of a man who leaves behind
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| The memory of youth, of youth
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| Instead of looking back to live again |