When I was a child my world extended,
Just as far as my mother could see.
And sometimes I’d ask if I could go,
To the park across the street.
I’d sit on the freshly mown lawn and watch
The nieghborhood carrying on and watch
And listen and look for a telltale sign
Of that beautiful friend of mine
The man with the horse and wagon
The one who passed by at noon day
I’d run to the horse and wagon
SoI could hear him say…
Apples, peaches, fresh ripe pears
New strawberries, watermelon, cherries
And a flower for your young girls hair.
But apron strings can’t hold young wings
When the world becomes too small.
And a young man grown
Must stand alone, if he will stand at all.
On a cold gray day,an old man wanders
To the park across the street.
Gone are the trees,not a soul he sees,
No birds for him to feed.
I turn my back to the wind and stop.
I hear the far away clippity clop,
Of a chestnut mare, in my minds eye,
I’m standing right behind….
The man with the horse and wagon
The one who passed by at noon day
I’d run to the horse and wagon
SoI could hear him say…
Apples, peaches, fresh ripe pears
New strawberries, watermelon, cherries
And a flower for your young girls hair.
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