There's a place in my memory
Where I love to be.
It's my old summer home
In a cove by the sea.

Where I walk o'er the hills
and along by the shore.
On the old worn down trail
that I've walked through before.

My father he walked
through this trail long ago.
In summer and winter
through rain, sleet and snow.

His footprints are there
though not plain to be seen.
As he walked through the marshes
and through evergreens.

I still can remember
when he told me one day.
This trail may not be here
if those prints fade away.

But if you keep it open
you will never go wrong.
If you follow my footprints
as you go along.

Many years have gone by
since my dad passed away.
But those memories still linger
by night and by day.