SHENANDOAH

 It starts with a birth and an end—But before it ever began;

The longing for what never was,

Will echo as long as ancient halls descend.

You came to see, and at the end—Just after the mourning began—

You asked me why I sang that song.

Thank you for asking, my friend.

It’s a story, true and old, but based on untrue things.

It comes upon me now and now,

When I behold those colder springs.

It sure is like a phantasy—Mother queen and Nature pure,

Father kingly on His bench,

And me unwillingly crowned The Cure…

But I swear to you I lived it; I had it once in me!

I swear that love was mine!

I knew it: Family.

And yet, because you ask me why, I suddenly can see:

I sing the Shenandoah

To start to set me free.

I sing to know I’ve longed for, some dream never there.

But because you asked for it,

I can sing this goodbye mourning prayer.