Up on the Roof, Down in the Cellar

Sometimes I’m up on the rooftop, hat in my hand

Dancing with the pigeons, waving at the marching band

Clouds at my feet, I’m singing so proud

Helium in my laughter, echoing loud

Then the wind can change its mind

And I stumble down the line

I go up, up, up where the brass bands play

Then down, down, down to the cobblestone gray

High in the rafters, low where the rainwater flows

Life is a polka, and round it goes

Sometimes I’m low in the cellar, dust on my shoes

Counting cracks in the mortar, humming old blues

Spiders for company, whispers in jars

Yet I find melodies even under the stars

But the walls can open wide

And I’m carried by the tide

I go up, up, up where the brass bands play

Then down, down, down to the cobblestone gray

High in the rafters, low where the rainwater flows

Life is a polka, and round it goes

Thank you Beth for the spark in my head

For music discovered wherever I tread

On mountain or valley, we always belong

Waltzing together in ups and downs of song

I go up, up, up where the brass bands play

Then down, down, down to the cobblestone gray

High in the rafters, low where the rainwater flows

Life is a polka, and round it goesSo here’s to the climb and tumble below

With a hop and a skip, wherever we go