THE OLD SONGS' HOME
(Shelley Posen)

On a lonely street at twilight
On my way home from the store
I passed a run-down mansion
I had never seen before
The walls were cracked and peeling
With ivy overgrown
And a sign upon the threshhold
Said, “The Old Songs’ Home.”

Well, sometimes curiosity
Is not to be denied
I walked up to the open door
And took a peek inside
Soft echoes of a thousand songs
At once caressed my ear
But somehow I could hear each one
Complete and crystal clear.

In the Old Songs’ Home
The old songs live together
In the Old Songs’ Home
When the world has passed them by
They come here when their last note’s sung
Unnoticed and unknown
They echo here forever
In the Old Songs’ Home.

I heard shanties that helped raise the sails
On a thousand clipper ships
And hits from Tin Pan Alley
Once on everybody’s lips
I heard songs the cowboys sang their herds
Where the buffalo used to roam
But no coyotes answered
In the Old Songs’ Home.

I heard songs once sung in factory towns
In logging camps and mines
And songs that striking workers sang
While walking picket lines
I heard songs that played the Palace
And the New York Hippodrome
Each night they bring the house down
In the Old Songs’ Home.

I heard Young Monroe swap stories
With The Boy That Wore the Blue
While Phil the Fluter danced a jig
With Johnny Macadoo
I heard She-e-rry sing doo wop
With Mr. Earl and Honeycomb
They still meet on the corner
In the Old Songs’ Home.

Well, every old song has a dream
That glimmers now and then
Of living in the world once more
And being sung again
My friends, if you love singing—
Low, high, or monotone—
There’s an old song waiting for you
In the Old Songs’ Home.


https://shelleyposen.bandcamp.com/album/the-old-songs-home