Branch Come Home Year

August 9-19, 2007

My Father’s House Down by the Gut

By: Loretta Corcoran

 

 

A pile of rocks is all that’s left now

My father’s house is no longer there

I dry my eyes as I fondly remember

That little house down by the gut.

 

In my father’s house, we were poor, but rich in love

No TV, but music there was plenty of

My mama hummed old melodies

And we all sang along

In my father’s house, when I was young.

 

Time goes by and we get older

Our own children are all reared and gone

I wonder now, do they fondly remember

The days of long ago when they were young

 

In my father’s house, a smile would greet you at the door

A friendly word, even strangers there was welcome for

And at night time neighbors wandered in and might stay till twelve or one

In my father’s house, when I was young.

 

Down by the gut, there was so much fun then

My father’s stories still linger on

Of hunting and fishing and catching the big one

Everyone was a friend when we were young.

 

In summer time, we’d wait for the fishermen

To land the fish so we could get hearts and tongues

And oh how we loved to swim in the rivers

Over by Pat’s meadow, we had so much fun.

 

Winter time is my greatest memory

We’d skate on the rivers all weekend long

And into the evenings we’d slide down the gut path

Oh so much fun when we were young.

 

But time goes by, and things are changing

Only memories now remain

But still I here the laughter of children

Like in my father’s house, when I was young

 

In my father’s house, we were poor but rich in love

No TV, but good times there were plenty of

We did the best with what we had

And we sang a happy song.

In my father’s house, when I was young.