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On a sad and lonely morn,
Upon her rocking chair,
Old grandmother Flinell
Sat quietly dreaming there.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Sat dreaming of her son.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Sat waiting for him to come.
Staring out a dusty window,
She wished her wish could come true!!
But her dear son was gone forever.
This, of all things, she knew.
He disappeared 25 years ago,
Simply lost with the setting sun.
Since then, the whole town,
Has mysteriously felt glum.
Rocking, rocking, rocking,
On her chair from June 'till May.
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
Waiting for the day.
But on a sad and lonely morn,
Upon her rocking chair,
Old grandmother Flinell,
Sat forever silent there.
Copyright © Angela Rehrl, 1997