(Buddy Sheffield)



I remember the time when the bloom was on the cotton

When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallows on their wings

Winter cares which we're already few or soon forgotten

Just sittin' on the front porch swing.



Oh, we sit every Sunday and watched the married ladies

And we dreamed of white dresses and church bells in the spring

And they talked and painted their nails while they let us hold their babies

Sittin' 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 night and long to hold their baby

Sittin' 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 died to match our faces

Sittin' 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 swallows on their wings

But the words to the rhyme are the only things forgotten

Sittin' on the front porch swing.



Sittin' on the front porch swing...