Covered with dust and forgotten,
Like the face upon the wall.
The one souvenir of the days gone by,
I treasure most of all:
(refrain)
There's an old spinning wheel in the parlor,
Spinning dreams of the long, long ago.
Spinning dreams of an old fashioned garden,
And a maid with her old fashioned beau,
Sometimes it seems that I can hear her in the twilight
At the organ softly singing "Old Black Joe."
There's an old spinning wheel in the parlor,
Spinning dreams of the long, long a go.
(verse)
Turn back the years of my childhood
As you turn, old spinning wheel.
Just show me a lane with a barefoot boy,
As shadows softly steal:
(repeat refrain)

Copyright: RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): DAVID CLAYTON-THOMAS