The house beside the road, br Where people lived br And children played, br Is empty now br And falling down. br br The echos of happy feet br Are heard now, br Tapping to the sound br Of Poppy's fiddle, br But the house beside the road br Is empty. br br When a gentle voice br Is heard in the house, br It's only a singing breeze br Sifting itself through br The cracks in the roof of br The house beside the road.