Morningside
the old man died
And no one cried
they simply turned away
And when he died
He left a table filled
with nails and pride
And with his hands he carved
these words inside
For my children
Morning light
morning bright
I spent the night
with dreams that make you weep
Morning time
Wash away the sadness
from these eyes of mine
For I recall the
words an old man signed
For my children
And the legs were shaped
with his hands
And the table made
with oaken wood
And the children
that sat around this table
Touched it with their laughter
and that was good
Morningside
the old man died
And no one cried
he surely died alone
And truth is sad
For not a child would claim
the gift he had
The words he carved became
his epitaph
For my children
Morningside
the old man died
And no one cried
they simply turned away
And when he died
He left a table filled
with nails and pride
And with his hands he carved
these words inside
For my children
Morning light
morning bright
I spent the night
with dreams that make you weep
Morning time
Wash away the sadness
from these eyes of mine
For I recall the
words an old man signed
For my children
And the legs were shaped
with his hands
And the table made
with oaken wood
And the children
that sat around this table
Touched it with their laughter
and that was good
Morningside
the old man died
And no one cried
he surely died alone
And truth is sad
For not a child would claim
the gift he had
The words he carved became
his epitaph
For my children