Away out West %s faithful wife,
We praying by the old oak tree,
With distant home filling every heart,
And like the morning dew.
The old oak tree winds whisper low,
As praying we roam,
Through memory's call we go,
Far from our childhood home.
Each true lover shares a story,
Of distant home and more,
The ancient bridge holds their glory,
Now and forevermore.
Through redemption we find our way,
By silvery stream we stand,
Though wandering minstrel may stray,
We join heart to heart and hand.
Th...