Nobody Home - Johnny Hartman

The old dirt road still winds by the hill

The house still has that country air

And memories live everywhere

But there’s nobody home

The winter sun still warms the sky

And from the rooftop, sparrows fly

I know the mailman passes by

But there’s nobody home

The swing hangs empty on the front porch now

But I can close my eyes and see

Momma sittin' there shelling butterbeans

Waiting for papa or waiting for me

I see the upstairs window pane

Where I would stand and watch the rain

Or listen to the evening train

But there’s nobody home

The swing hangs empty on the front porch now

But I can close my eyes and I can see

Momma sittin' there shelling butterbeans

Waiting for papa or waiting for me

I see the upstairs window pane

Where I would stand, I’d watch the rain

Or listen to the evening train

But there’s nobody home

Or listen to the evening train

But there’s nobody home