That's a wonderful song, The Villan.

Another observation of a woman in a nursing home who was strapped into her wheelchair, completely paralyzed except for one finger that she tapped in rhythm while I sang:

   "She remembers the sweet smell of freshly-baked apples
   That came from the wood-burning stove
   And the songs that her mother would sing to herself
   And the laughter when father came home
   And somewhere inside her there's still that young girl
   With a tortoise-shell comb in her hair
   And sometimes the memories come back with a song
   As surely as if she were there"

Jerry