The Little Lane

Where there is countryside there are little lanes, overgrown and disheveled, some of them leading to abandoned buildings, some to apple trees that signify someone has lived there. They mean something only to the people that return to find their roots. Otherwise, they are completely insignificant. Dedicated to the memory of Glen Trainor

The Little Lane

The little lane lies empty Where the man stands staring in Trees behind the hedges Join their branches over him Judging by his eyes you’d swear He’d been here once before And it’s him the little lane’s Been waiting for

Then walking up the lane he finds The remnants of a well He wonders where the old house stood For the grass will never tell Instead he finds a feeling That a fortune couldn’t buy And turns away to Keep these tears inside

Chorus: This little lane This country road A hedge of branches All overgrown A quiet place Of falling stone He’s come so far to see This little lane that He can call his own

He follows footsteps taken In days of troubled times Where once his own ancestors Bid their neighbors sad goodbyes They swore that for their children’s sake They’d never shed a tear The very ones he’s carried back After all these years

Corus:

The little lane lies empty Where the man stood staring in Footsteps by the roadside Are the only sign he’s been He turned away And shed a tear For this little lonely lane The he didn’t know He’d never ever see again

Chorus: