Mercy, mercy me, things ain’t what they used to be. (Marvin Gaye)
Lord, keep my memory green. (Charles Dickens)
My sister, who volunteers at our local historical museum, tells me that the next special exhibit is to be one on “old houses.” As I drive our back roads and see houses that are no longer lived in, that are being reclaimed by nature, I imagine the rich lives that once were lived here, the memories that still float through the hallways, the history that these houses witnessed. It’s hard for me to let them go; it hurts somehow, and I have a longing for them to be honored.
I was eight years old when this song came out in 1954; I learned it by heart, and even now I remember all the words to it. I know what it means to me now, in the dawn of my senior years; I wonder what it meant to me then.
This old house once knew my children
This old house once knew my wife
This old house was home and comfort
As we fought the storms of life
This old house once rang with laughter
This old house heard many shouts
Now it trembles in the darkness
When the lightning walks about . . .
This old house is gettin’ shaky
This old house is gettin’ old
This old house lets in the rain
This old house lets in the cold
This old house is afraid of thunder
This old house is afraid of storms
This old house just blows and trembles
When the night comes after dawn . . .
This old house is getting fragile
This old house is in need of paint
Just like me it’s starting to die
I’m getting ready to meet the saints . . .
Ain’t gonna need this house no longer
Ain’t gonna need this house no more
Ain’t got time to fix the shingles
Ain’t got time to fix the floor
Ain’t got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend no window pane
Ain’t gonna need this house no longer
I’m getting ready to meet the saints . . .
(abbreviated, by Stuart Hamblen, sung by Rosemary Clooney)