I’m coming home
Whenever I see
The golden hills
The flaming trees

Of the Townships
Where I grew up
The place that was home
Where I filled my cup

Where dinner was for dozens
Or two, but always loud
Where the farmhouse stood
On the hill so proud

Where I lived in the cabin
Under the butternut tree
Where angels came to my bower
Rug-lined and woodstove heat

I drove an old Volvo 122
Greta was her name
She was missing a front fender
She was my ride all the same

The summers and winters
I spent in l’Estrie
Were where I was made
Where I became me

I’m coming home
Whenever I see
The golden hills
The flaming trees
Au mon foyer dans l’Estrie