These were tunes she heard her father on his old accordion play
Around the fire on Winter evenings such good memories tend to stay.
She was back home in Slovenia in the wood beside the hill
She could hear the robin singing, she could hear the rippling rill
Spring had come to her green valley skylark towards the clouds did fly
Once more she can hear him singing in the sunny morning sky.
I could see a brown haired girl long before years brought first gray
Back there in her own green valley fragrant with the flowers of May
Flushed with joy that early youth bring seven to eight years before
The urge caused by lust for wander brought her to another shore.
The band play music of Slovenia and the dancers waltz around the floor
Many perhaps in their sixties they re-live their youth once more
Saturday they danced all evening till sunday morning after three
Old tunes that once were familiar rekindle the flame of memory.
Next to me sat aged woman five decades beyond her prime
She was singing with the music clapping hands and keeping time
Suddenly her years had vanished she was young and far away
Sitting by the open fireplace listening to her father play.
There’s a secret power in music it can be a source of joy
And music too can bring sad memories something sad from years gone by
And the music of Slovenia mix in well with a few beers
And the happy ex Slovenians were back in the happy years.

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