Stef, July 2001

The Old Girl

 

A fischermen's town on the west coast of Sweden
I once went to visit one year in July
Sunshine was bright on the boats in the harbour
And visitors passing the streets by and by
Cafe's were crowded with folks having tea
That Sunday some time after twelve
On a bench, 'neath a birch overlooking the sea
Sat an old girl and sang to herself


Tired from walking and eager to rest
I touched her my cap and then sat myself down
She didn't take notice, her face to the west
To the sea and her back to the crowds of the town
She just kept on singing as was she alone
As if she was drunk I first thought
But sober she was I could tell by her tone
And soon in her song I was caught


A beautiful song that told tales of past days
In a house, with husband and sons of the sea
Not just hard work had traced deep in her face
Sad mem'ries and hurt were apparent to me
Gone was the fire that once must have burned
So much in a life can go wrong
Maybe a ship sailed and never returned
I could not tell from her song


And then her voice it turned friendly and bright
She sang of the joy and love she had seen
Her body was bent but her heart it was light
A beautiful woman this girl must have been
The song came to end, her voice faded away
We both sat in silence a while
But before she rose and then went on her way
She turned and gave me a smile