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Philomena Begley
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Cottage On The Hill
There's and old cottage, waiting in the country,
Waiting for someone to call,
There's an old kettle boiling on the fire,
There's an old welcome mat in the hall,
There's an old mum and dad there awaiting,
For a son that's been gone for so long,
There's an old cottage waiting in the country,
Waiting for that boy to come home.
May years ago he had to leave them,
And travel far across the foamy sea,
To fight for the things that he believed in,
With a song and a guitar on his knee,
But they hoped and prayed he'd return to them,
Tho' the weeks slowly turned into years,
Many nights they have been so lonely
And many nights there had been many tears.
There's and old cottage, waiting in the country,
Waiting for someone to call,
There's an old kettle boiling on the fire,
There's an old welcome mat in the hall,
There's an old mum and dad there awaiting,
For a son that's been gone for so long,
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There's an old cottage waiting in the country,
Waiting for that boy to come home.
The old man is tired and weary,
His back bent over with age,
The old woman she sits by the fire,
And just gazes into the flames,
On a table that's standing beside her,
Are the pictures of the son she misses so,
The son she held and kissed so dearly,
When he left her, so many years ago.
There's and old cottage, waiting in the country,
Waiting for someone to call,
There's an old kettle boiling on the fire,
There's an old welcome mat in the hall,
There's an old mum and dad there awaiting,
For a son that's been gone for so long,
There's an old cottage waiting in the country,
Waiting for that boy to come home.
There's an old cottage waiting in the country,
Waiting for that boy to come home.
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