This Old House

04:21
Doug Spears
2010-01-01
Doug Spears

Story

In the late 1920's my grandfather, Clyde Spears, came to Lake County, Florida. He bought about 30 acres of sandy farm land west of Leesburg, Florida on a dirt road that would eventually become highway 44 running from coast to coast across the State. He built a two room Cracker shack without power or running water in which he and my grandmother lived as they began to work the farm. Children soon began to come and he added onto the house little by little until it grew to three bedrooms, two baths, living room, den, kitchen, dining room and large porches front and back. The house and farm stayed in our family 80 years and every good memory I have ties one way or the other back to that old Cracker farm house. Everyone has that one place that comes to mind when someone says the word home - this is mine.

Lyrics

 

This old house is still and silent, nobody lives here anymore,

Its been a long time since a footstep fell upon these wooden floors,

Four generations have stood right where I stand,

The roots of a family growing strong up from this sand.

 

And this old house . . . Once upon a time,

Was the place where everything I loved had its common tie,

And this old house . . . that I loved so long ago,

It is still the place I dream about when I dream dreams of home.

 

All the walls are stained and faded, dust is settling everywhere,

Yet everything is still just where it was the last time I was here,

But now out in the front yard near that old oak tree I’d climb,

There’s a for sale sign that tells my heart this home’s no longer mine.

 

And this old house . . . Once upon a time,

Was the place where everything I loved had its common tie,

And this old house . . . that I loved so long ago,

It is still the place I dream about when I dream dreams of home.

 

For it was here within these weathered walls that I learned how to love,

How to trust in human kindness and that grace flows from above.

 

I can still hear their voices though they seem so far away,

And I still see all their faces when I close my eyes and pray,

One last time I wander through these rooms and everything I see,

Just flickers like a silver screen of a thousand memories.

 

And this old house . . . Once upon a time,

Was the place where everything I loved had its common tie,

And this old house . . . that I loved so long ago,

It is still the place I dream about when I dream dreams of home.

 

Oh this old house,

This old house.