THE OLD GREY HOUSE
The old family home
(midi is "Harvest Home" sequenced by Barry Taylor)

The old red schoolhouse sits high on a hill,
Like a sentinel it stands fearlessly;
Down by its feet ever braving the chill,
You sit, reflecting the moods of the sea.

When cold winds of winter knock at your door, Embraced by your fire, how sweetly they sing;
Winter winds no longer bellow and roar,
But practise perfect harmony for spring.

The church bells ring at eleven and seven,
Obedient winds hush the restless waves;
A gentle white dove comes down from Heaven,
And joins the cliff swallows under your eaves.

A weekly ceilidh was something I looked forward to as a child. I chose this piece for the page as it reminds me of those special times when we would get together and everyone would play an instrument. Nanny would be on the violin of course - or maybe the accordian. Whenever I go back to visit the old home, I'm never sent away without a ceilidh.