There is sunlight on the sidewalk
In the town where she once lived
There's a penny on the railroad tracks
In the early morning mist

The gray thrush lites in her empty nest
In the ash tree down the lane
She left a hymnal in the grass
On the morning she was taken

Below boards
Below boards
Where privacy's assured
The footsteps fall
She hears them all
From down below the boards

The town awakes like a glacier
like an early model Ford
the bosun's drowning little ghosts
down below the boards.

Just two fingers at a time
Fill it carefully
Won't spill a drop
He can't make it stop.
And that's just how it has to be.

They come to life like a French ballet
They go about their chores
They occasionally catch themselves
Glancing to the shore

We know a little fable
We keep our secret well
She hopes that she'll be able
To find his face in Hell.

Below boards
Below boards
Where privacy's assured
The footsteps fall
She hears them all
From down below the boards