The Cold Fireside
Sitting by the cold fireside,
Thinking back at life’s long day.
When was it I lost my way?
Was it when I lost my bride?
Was it when I played and lied?
Love’s light left; she refused to stay.
Where she went, she wouldn’t say.
On that day all meaning died.
Sitting by the cold fireside,
Wondering why I ever lied.