Tiny little town that i live
Old mills and rusting machines
Come January i head south
To watch some fireworks
Hidden sparks light up the inner me
Amidst the Holy fire, i meet her again
Spirited and harmonious Dancers
Holding hands We dance to the chants
Few stories to be told
Eager listeners waiting
But this night, no stories been told
As the storyteller from up North
Is busy spinning something new
A story to be told a nother day
