No Place Like Home
Words & Music - Phil Garland, October 2004
© Kiwi Music
'I took a little journey to the place where I was born,
To visit the old homestead, deserted and forlorn.
Old memories came crowding as I wandered round,
Counting up the blessings that in my heart abound.
Chorus:
Someone once said long ago, ‘there’s no place like
your own’
All roads lead you back to where your heart belongs.
With friends and family waiting, you’ll never be alone,
Soon you’ll come to realise, there’s no place like
home.
Sundays were for family, close knit in every way,
Roast and pavlova were highlights of the day.
The childhood games we used to play are seldom seen today,
Like good old ‘spin the bottle’ in the barn amongst
the hay,
It’s funny how some little things still serve to remind,
How deep our feelings are for what we’ve left behind.
The woolshed and the quarry, the morepork in the pines,
Are forever etched in memory, un-dimmed by passing time.
Good mates never change, there’s always time to chat,
To talk about the weather and if it justifies a hat.
It doesn’t seem to matter how long you’ve been gone,
The welcome mat is waiting in the place that we call home.
The local Pub’s just closing, soon all is hushed and quiet,
Somewhere a dog is barking at shadows in the night.
A tourist bus and truckie slow down and dip their lights,
Before a peaceful calm returns once more to Paradise.
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