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Leaves are falling and turning in showers of gold,
As the postman climbs up the long hill;
And there's sympathy written all over his face,
As he hands me a couple more bills.
Who will watch the home place,
Who will tend my heart's dear space;
Who will fill my empty place,
When I am gone from here?
There's a lovely green nook by a clear running stream,
It was my place when I was quite small;
And its creatures and sounds would soothe my worst fears,
But today they don't ease me at all.
Who will watch the home place,
Who will tend my heart's dear space;
Who will fill my empty place,
When I am gone from here?
In my grandfather's shed there are hundreds of tools,
I know them by feel and by name;
And like parts of my body they've patched this old place,
When I move them they won't be the same.
And as I wander around touching each precious thing,
The chimney, the table, the trees,
And my memories whirl 'round me like birds on the wing,
When I leave here, who will I be?
Who will watch the home place,
Who will tend my heart's dear space;
Who will fill my empty place,
When I am gone from here?
