Morningside
The old man died
And no one cried
They simply turned away
When he died
He left a table made of nails and pride
And with his hands he carved these words inside
For my children
Morning light
Morning bright
I spent the night
With dreams that make you weep
Morning time
Wash away the sadness from these eyes of mine
For I recall the words an old man signed
For my children
And the legs were shaped with his hands
And the top made of oaken wood
And the children that sat around this great table
Touched it with their laughter
And that was good
Morningside
The old man died
And no one cried
He surely died alone
Truth is sad
For not a child would claim the gift he had
The words he carved became his epitaph
For my children