Way up north Down the road a little Back in New England Right here in the middle And all the way out west We had our ears to the ground All of our dreams resting in the same spot Listening for the old sound It was ringing as clear as crystal It was shining as bright as gold Grain gathering on stone floor And we were spring-heeled and we were real cold All summer long Deep into autumn In a high room And down here in the bottom Down here in the bottom