A swing, hanging from a tree
Moving with the wind blowing free
Almost as if it were waiting
Swaying back and forth creaking,

Creaking, creaking
Waiting for a lover to come

The swing was not waiting for a lover or a friend
Nor was it waiting for an end
With the breeze speaking in a lost tongue
Telling of lost tales

The old wind told tales
Of while the swing and tree were young

Children swung in the limbs without care
All would sit on the swing and the wind would be there
And the swing was happy then
The children would laugh

‘O how they would laugh
Everyone was happy then

But one day it was to end, as all things must
The children left the swing to gather dust
With only the wind to talk to
The old wind whispering,

Whispering, whispering
The old wind telling tales in a voice dulcet

A swing, hanging from a tree
Moving with the wind blowing free
Almost as if it were waiting
Swaying back and forth creaking,

Creaking, creaking
Waiting for a lover to come