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Dana Lyons: Guitar and Vocal
Mike Grigoni: Dobro

Lyrics

JOHN PARENT’S HOUSE
By Dana Lyons

There’s a home, but some might call it a shack
Up in the clearcuts where the forest grows back
And it’s hot, and you can hear the bees buzz
Up at John Parents house

And we walk down to a secret path
To the forest near the river valley baked in the sun
And we run naked on the hidden beach
Below John Parent’s house

There are tracks, coyote and bobcat
We follow them upriver like we’re never coming back
There’s a peace here in this countryside
Up at John Parent’s house

And all at once big August sun goes down
The temperature’s still cooking and our clothes are on the ground
There’s a freedom that in the summer abounds
Up at John Parent’s house

And John plays that tiny fiddle with his big hands
We’re staring at the stars with our backs on the sand
I thank God for this time that we share
Up at John Parent’s house

Copyright by Dana Lyons
Lyons Brothers Music, BMI