Winter came early in '74 and along with rain and the snow
Influenza returned and with a vengeance it burned
Through the cities and the rich country homes
With death indiscriminate calling for whoever should answer the door
There were many fell victim who didn't see the Spring
From the Winter of '74
Mary and Margaret were sisters and together they'd lived their whole lives
They never did marry, in the city they lived, growing older as the years passed them by
Margaret took ill that December, doctor said there's not much I can do
Her best chance to survive is any hope that resides
In her soul that just might pull her through
But, Margaret was ready for leaving, by the window in her bed where she lay
So resigned to her fate, not a meal would she take, lady waiting on her final day
As she stared out her window each morning at the leaves on the vine 'cross the lane
She said, "Mary, I know that when the last leaf is gone
Then, I, too, shall no longer remain"
Joseph was an artist in the city, "He's crazy", the townsfolk would say
He'd walk through the streets, speak of his masterpiece, "Yes, I know that I'll paint it someday"
He lived below Mary and Margaret, he stopped up to see them each day
And, as Margaret lay dying, he could hear Mary crying
As the wind shook the leaves 'cross the lane
Several days passed, Margaret still hanging on, she said, "Mary, I think it must be a sign"
"Despite the wind and the rain, I can see through the pane, that one leaf still remains on the vine"
"Please bring me some broth, my dear Sister, I'm feeling much better today"
"I thought death was calling, but the last leaf ain't fallen"
"Guess to die now, it isn't my fate"
The news reached them later that evening, old Joseph the painter had died
He was found in his bed, his clothes icy and wet, his pallet and brush by his side
Dear Margaret, did you never wonder why that leaf never shook in the breeze
He painted it there in the cold Winter air
For you he made his masterpiece
He saved you with his masterpiece
from Nothing Hid,
released October 4, 2013
Bob Frey - Guitar, Vocals
Corey Hess - Bass, Drums
Kale Baglyos Reed - Violin
Bob Frey is a longtime devotee to the art of writing and performing songs. His unique and memorable voice immediately
engages his audience, the perfect vehicle for his wry, intelligent lyrics.
On each of these albums, Bob shows himself to be a versatile writer, his simple folk melodies forming a sound and solid base for his poetic observations and stories. He is the brother of author James Frey....more