作词 : Sheffield I remember a time when the bloom was on the cotton When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallow on the wing When our cares which were already few, some forgotten Just sitting on the front porch swing Oh we'd sit every Sunday, and watch the married ladies And we'd dream of white dresses and church bells in the spring And they'd talk and paint their nails while they let us hold their babies Sitting on the front porch swing Where was I when the time came to join the married ladies Why did I paint the nail when the finger had no ring Why do I sit at my age and long to hold their babies Sitting on the front porch swing When the mind longs to follow, but the memory erases And the lips form the words that the heart no longer sings When the leaves in the hollow have been dyed to match our faces Sitting on the front porch swing Oh we'll dream of the time when the bloom was on the cotton When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallow on the wing But the words to the rhyme are not the only things forgotten Sitting on the front porch swing
作词 : Sheffield I remember a time when the bloom was on the cotton When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallow on the wing When our cares which were already few, some forgotten Just sitting on the front porch swing Oh we'd sit every Sunday, and watch the married ladies And we'd dream of white dresses and church bells in the spring And they'd talk and paint their nails while they let us hold their babies Sitting on the front porch swing Where was I when the time came to join the married ladies Why did I paint the nail when the finger had no ring Why do I sit at my age and long to hold their babies Sitting on the front porch swing When the mind longs to follow, but the memory erases And the lips form the words that the heart no longer sings When the leaves in the hollow have been dyed to match our faces Sitting on the front porch swing Oh we'll dream of the time when the bloom was on the cotton When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallow on the wing But the words to the rhyme are not the only things forgotten Sitting on the front porch swing
