(h. woods, g. kahn)
It’s just a little street
Where old friends meet,
I’d love to wander back
Someday.
To you, it may be old,
And sort of tumbled down,
But it means a lot to folks
In my hometown.
Although I’m rich or poor,
I still feel sure
I’m welcome as the flowers in may.
It’s just a little street
Where old friends meet,
And treat you in the same old way.
~interlude~
Although I’m rich or poor,
I still feel sure
I’m welcome as the flowers in may.
It’s just a little street
Where old friends meet,
And treat you in the same old way.
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