The River Our Life Flowed By

This song was written by my brother, Wally, who came along when I was nine. 

The River Our Life Flowed By

   June 21, 2010 Words and Music by Wally Hebert

Dedicated to

Preacher Hebert, 1907-1999

John David Hebert, 1951-2010

We learned to swim in the West Fork River when we were two years old.
Our Daddy tossed us away from him into waters deep and cold.
We did our best dog paddle and swam with all our might.
We knew if we got back to those strong hands everything would be all right.

Blue crabs boiling in a big black kettle, Mama’s huckleberry pie
Cannonballs off a rope swing, clay balls launched at the other side.
Black lab playing with a cottonmouth, tree house way up high.
Flying squirrel in Stephen’s shirt pocket, snapping turtle on Daddy’s trotline.

Life took me away from the West Fork River when I was seventeen.
Whenever I came back home again I told it where I’d been.
I showed it to the girl I loved and saw it in her eyes.
What seemed so wide when I was young, now small against the sky.

The River was deep and wide and clear, an eternity across
It saw all our joyful times, every pain and loss.
To our Dad it was a good old friend, a highway to his life.
It fed our bodies and our souls with summer days and nights…
And that was life on the West Fork River, the river our life flowed by.

Life brought me back to the West Fork River in 1999.
My Dad and I went down to see in December’s cold sunshine.
We sat without a word and watched the water flow on by.
“We can go now,” Daddy said, but he knew that was good-bye.

Now I’m back here ten years later but still it’s way too soon.
My brother David fights for life in the same place he was born.
There’s no way we can let him go; there’s no way he can stay.
We know he rests in God’s strong hands and wakes to that bright day.

This morning I took my coffee cup and looked at the other side.
I know I could be there in just one step and not even really try.
I held my grandsons in my arms and told them the river’s name.
Like me, they’ll learn from the West Fork River, some things will never change.

The River was deep and wide and clear, an eternity across
It saw all our joyful times, every pain and loss.
To our Dad it was a good old friend, a highway to his life.
It fed our bodies and our souls with summer days and nights…
And that was life on the West Fork River, the river our life flowed by.