The End of an Old House

By John Cohen
Copyright © 2003

Where the Peekskill Hollow flows along to meet the Wiccope
There stood a group of buildings that meant all the world to me
T'was a place of friends and neighbors, a place that was enjoyed
Tompkins Corners was its name, but now its been destroyed.

The firehouse said it's worthless and they brashly tore it down
Its their disgrace, and our loss, the history of our town
Now the dust rolls o're the valley like the tears before my eye
That have been there ever since the day they let my home place die.

They came with trucks and bulldozers where children used to play
Pushed down the ancient timbers and hauled the walls away.
Now the house is gone, the memories fade, replaced by constant fears
And with it all our hopes and plans for past and future years.

The house it stood through hail and storm, more than two centuries
It was and Inn, a store, a home, from Revolutionary times
Our President spoke from its porch in 1932
A heritage which was passed on, from him, to me and you.

Our voice of protest was not heard, the land is bald and bare,
And in its place a bitter taste, their arrogance is there.
Now the dust rolls o're the valley like the tears before my eye
That have been there ever since the day they let my home place die.

They chalked it up to progress, and the Town Board all agrees
But the people's voices goes unheard, it makes our spirit freeze
Disrespectful or our common past, the firemen rant and roar
And Tompkins Corners ancient house is gone forever more.