It was the year nineteen hundred and 02
The old porch swing creaked a tune or two
Sat a young maiden, her heartbeat on cue,
Waiting by twilight for her lover true.
The moon slowly roamed in the star lit sky
Casting shadows as soft clouds rolled by,
As whippoorwills send out a dire love call
high over tree tops and mountains tall..
The cool spring breeze gently floating by
Rustles new borne leaves too young to die,
Spring finally alive, love waiting to start
In all God's creatures with an open heart..
The old porch swing stopped creaking a tune
When maiden and lover danced under the moon,
Until the year nineteen hundred and ninety two
As the widowed maiden rocked lonely and blue..
`Sad I know, but these are the facts of life, sorry!