Waterville

By Ken Ainsworth

© 2005, Night Whale Productions

 

A tractor prowls in gold and green

A village rises from a wheatland dream

In Waterville

On the old main street in a small café’

A waitress serves a farmer old and grey

With coffee black, hash browns and scrambled eggs

Then he cracks a joke; she averts her eyes

The smile she wears is all a lie

In Waterville

 

You see her father was taken back in Viet Nam

And her son was killed by a roadside bomb

In the middle East; trying to win the peace

Then her husband left in deep despair

Chasing some dream that just wasn’t there

Now she’s on her own, feeling all alone

She’s living her life now from day to day

Trying to hang on to the faith to pray

In Waterville

 

Chorus:

In Waterville, the grass is green

In Waterville, the streets are clean

In Waterville, it seems so serene and right

But in Waterville, there’s broken hearts

In Waterville, lives are coming apart

In Waterville, there’s darkness without the Light

There are souls in need

In Waterville

 

In the parsonage not far from there

A young preacher’s wife wonders why she’s here

In Waterville

She left family, friends … she left it all

To be faithful to her husband’s call

To Waterville

So with heavy heart on an autumn day

She takes her Bible to the park to pray

In Waterville

 

Chorus

 


On a park bench, the preacher’s wife

Found the waitress, and they shared a cry

In Waterville

And together, praying hand in hand

They found a peace you just can’t understand

When two or more gather, the Lord is there in Waterville

As they lifted each other up in prayer

The preacher’s wife remembered why she was there

In Waterville

 

Chorus