I got to the cabin today.
Watched the snow on my boots melt away.
I started a fire in the old blackened stove;
watched the paper, then the wood burn as it growed.
I picked up an old magazine.
I flipped through the pages and I seen
an ad for some coffee-fifteen cents for a pound.
Not whole-bean, it was already ground.
I sat in my chair for a while
when a mem'ry of you made me smile.
It's been nine years to the day since I laid you in your grave
and I still can't find nothin' to say.
I got up and made me a brew.
The can was from Easter, that I knew.
I reckoned if Jesus could raise from the dead
Easter coffee could help lift my head.
::Inter::
I stretched myself out on my cot.
I'd drank all the coffee in the pot.
The embers in the fire hours ago had gone cold;
I began to feel tired and old.
I came by to see you today.
Easter coffee and cold embers sped my way.
I waited nine years to the day, and you sure do look fine,
like the beauty that I once called mine.
C G C
F C G
Em F C Am
C G C
::Inter::
C G C
C G C
F C C Am
C G C
