There’s a little white church
in Barcelona
Not far from the lighthouse
overlooking the bay
It’s where I spent
my Bible school summers
and sometimes Christmas
in a Sunday school play

We'd walk to the smoke house
down on the shore
Savor some soft ice cream
from a nearby stand
Run out on the breakwall
that sat in the harbor
Greet the fine sailboats
with a wave of the hand

There’s little so dear
to my precious memories
than this cozy warm village
of my childhood days
Where everyone gathered
for dinner at grandma’s
Can someone please pass
the potatoes this way?