The late Bill Morrissey, just because

They sat at each end of the couch, watched as the fire burned down, So quiet on this winter's night, not a house light on for miles around. Then he said, "I think I'll fill the stove. it's getting time for bed." She looked up, "I think I'll have some wine. how 'bout you?" She asked and he declined.

"Warren," she said, "maybe just for tonight, Let's fill the stove with birches and watch as the fire burns bright. How long has it been? I know it's quite a while. Pour yourself half a glass. Stay with me a little while."

And Warren, he shook head, as if she'd made some kind of joke. "Birches on a winter night? no, we'll fill the stove with oak. Oak will burn as long and hot as a July afternoon, And birch will burn itself out by the rising of the moon. "And you hate a cold house, same as me. Am I right or not?"

"All right, all right, that's true," she said. "It was just a thought, 'Cause," she said, "Warren, you do look tired. Maybe you should go up to bed. I'll look after the fire tonight." "Oak," he told her. "Oak," she said.

She listened to his footsteps as he climbed up the stairs, And she pulled a sweater on her, set her wineglass on a chair. She walked down cellar to the wood box -- it was as cold as an ice chest -- and climbed back up with four logs, each as white as a wedding dress.

And she filled the stove and poured the wine and then she sat down on the floor. She curled her legs beneath her as the fire sprang to life once more. And it filled the room with a hungry light and it cracked as it drew air, And the shadows danced a jittery waltz like no one else was there.

And she stood up in the heat. She twirled around the room. And the shadows they saw nothing but a young girl on her honeymoon. And she knew the time it would be short; the fire would start to fade. She thought of heat. She thought of time. She called it an even trade.

 
They used to come to town from the naval base Lookin' for a stiff drink and a pretty face Hang around the whorehouses all night long Some were drifters and some were bums Some were just waiting for the war to come Out behind the factory With a bottle and a factory girl.

Well, that December, war broke out Many a woman lost her man Some wrote from overseas; some didn't  And their women didn't understand And the whores left for the harbor towns where the business was still good. The factory girls worked double shifts; put in as much time as they could.

In that small town on the river
Small town on the river

Some men came home aces and some were carried home But each one was a hero No man was lefty alone. Some took jobs, some went to school, some found they'd fathered kids. Most tried and could not forget, Some wound up on the skids.

In that small town on the river
Small town on the river

 Well forty years later the town remains the same. One mill burnt down, another one was built The paychecks now come from a different name. And at the Eagles and the Legion Hall no one seems to age With the same jokes told and the TV on And the paper open to the Sports page.

In that small town on the river
Small town on the river

And I was talking with the bartender last night at the PAC, A Navy man from World War II, Sharp dresser though he don't have top be. And over a double Bourbon He said "I'll tell you man to man, This town died forty years ago. Son, get out while you can.

It's just a small town on the river
Small town on the river

  Y
You can look into her eyes and live forever She's as restless as the sea She's as calm as a summer dawn She's that kind of mystery

 And you can write the song that wins her heart A song will take you half the way But you've known from the start You'll never write the song that makes her stay

 Love comes in a sound of a dream In a whisper of a prayer In a promise of a sigh And love comes from the corner of a smile But it isn't meant for you She will only stay awhile

And she will fall asleep within your arms And you will know the fear as lovers do For in the night she'll pledge her heart But she cannot feel what is not hers

Love comes in a sound of a dream In a whisper of a prayer In a promise of a sigh And love comes from the corner of a smile But it isn't meant for you She will only stay awhile

You can look into her eyes and live forever She's as restless as the sea She's as calm as a summer dawn She's that kind of mystery