By and by the fireside, we all sang a song.
T’was once a hymn, and then a legend,
and now we all sing along.
We laugh and yell, and act so free,
as we sing this song; never hearing
those sweet words, are words of tragedy.
A voice fell silent, decades gone,
when I was just a lad. Blind sleepers all,
we still sang our song.
The chorus rose and fell, as generations came
one voice entered, another left,
but the song remained the same.
Would we have sung this song, back then,
if we had our circle could
so easily, be broken.
One be one, voices left the choir,
by and by, only silence replaced.
Quiet, is the song by the fire.
I’ll sing it still, in my troubles wake.
I’ll sing as best this one voice knows.
But one voice, does not a circle make.