There's an old ramshackle shack where in dreams I wander back
And listen to the southern melody
T'was the place where I was born on a bright October morn
And it's nestled at the end of my river of memories
Did you ever go sailing down the river of memories
To the little log cabin that's nestled among the sycamore trees
Where the sunshine is cheery and nothing in the world grows dreary
That's my cabin at the end of my river of memories
There's a mother old and gray at the end of memory's way
I'll meet her there tonight among the trees
With a smiling welcome she so sweetly beckons me
To the cabin at the end of my river of memories
When the twilight shadows fall many childhood voices call
Back again to the days that used to be
And in answer to their prayer I will soon be sailing there
To the cabin at the end of my river of memories.
Author: Albert Brumley
