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She lived in a cabin overlooking a vale,
To get her fresh water, she lowered a pail,
To the valley below, to a small waterfall,
But the pail had a leak, so the intake was small.
I remember our visits when I was a boy,
That filled me with wonder and filled me with joy,
To the home of the woman we knew as Aunt Maud,
And a house in the woods and a cellar of sod.
We’d turn off the road where the rail-line would weave,
The lane-way was long as it wound through the trees,
Then we’d come to the cabin, all made out of logs,
To be greeted by Bessie, her Saint Bernard dog.
I remember her horse, big and strong, dirty white,
But I never got close, 'cuz the horse liked to bite,
And the car in the shed was as old as the hills,
But we knew if it worked, it would give us a thrill.
The rooms in the cabin were dim and so small,
And often I wondered why there wasn’t a hall,
And the stove in the kitchen burned sawdust and wood,
But the food from the oven was sweet and so good.
And late in the evening, when the sun went to bed,
We’d sit in the parlor with a fresh loaf of bread,
And stare at the fire and talk of the day,
Tomorrow we’d leave, but I wished we could stay.
But the best part of all was a hike in the vale,
Through the meadow of flowers and all through the dale,
A time to explore and let visions run wild,
I will cherish that time, when I was a child.
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