The kettle screams a steady white.
The morning air is cold and bright.
I wipe the salt from off the pane.
The sky has washed away the rain.
Spin the copper wheel around.
Listen to the scratching sound.
Old songs drifting through the hall.
While the autumn raindrops fall.
The brass horn glows a heavy gold.
The winter tales are being told.
I pour the tea in a ceramic cup.
The steam rises slowly up.
Spin the copper wheel around.
Listen to the scratching sound.
Old songs drifting through the hall.
While the autumn raindrops fall.
The lighthouse lamp is dark and still.
The wind has left the coastal hill.
I lean my back against the wall.
The heavy curtains start to fall.
Spin the copper wheel around.
Listen to the scratching sound.
Old songs drifting through the hall.
While the autumn raindrops fall.
The needle jumps a tiny groove.
The heavy wooden floorboards move.
A ghostly waltz from long ago.
The clock keeps ticking steady slow.
The iron stove is burning red.
The sleepy birds are in their bed.
I close my eyes and hear the beat.
The kitchen air is smelling sweet.
Spin the copper wheel around.
Listen to the scratching sound.
Old songs drifting through the hall.
While the autumn raindrops fall.
The wheel stops turning now.
The copper wheel slows down.
(Humming)
