  SOMETIME in my day dreaming Thru’ my half-lidded eyes, I’m seeing old Virginia And Old Virginia skies. The narrow, crooked roadway, The path by which we came, And then I see the river, Bluestone river, in the rain. Then there’s the drooping willows Swaying, swirling, side by side. And the hollyhocks keep nodding To each other in the tide. And the mists we love o’ mornings Puts our dropping tears to shame. When we see it clear the river, Bluestone river, in the rain. And there’s the little homestead Just across the running stream, It beckons from the mountain Like a kind hand in a dream. From each golden window pane, And it shines down on the river, Bluestone river, in the rain. |
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