Craftsman & Cottage: The Streetcar Suburb Style

Lyrics

[Intro]
Nineteen-ten. Or was it twelve?
The year they drove the final nail.
You settled on your stone foundation,
A kit home from the railway station.
Just a whisper in the pines.

[Verse 1]
Your roof is low, a gentle slope.
The eaves hang wide, a shady hope.
Your rafter tails, exposed and proud,
Speak their purpose right out loud.
Tapered columns on the porch,
Holding up a quiet torch
Of welcome.
Brick piers, solid, square,
Breathing in the summer air.

[Chorus]
Oh, you Craftsman, you Cottage dream,
Born of lumber, rail, and steam.
A promise whispered down the wires,
Stoking small domestic fires.
You are a language built of wood,
A shelter, understood.

[Verse 2]
I walk across your heart pine floors,
Past the original five-panel doors.
The afternoon light, a dusty blade,
On the built-in shelves the carpenters made.
A window seat, a place to read,
Planting a quiet, simple seed.
Every room a modest size,
Reflected in a stranger's eyes.

[Chorus]
Oh, you Craftsman, you Cottage dream,
Born of lumber, rail, and steam.
A promise whispered down the wires,
Stoking small domestic fires.
You are a language built of wood,
A shelter, understood.

[Bridge]
Did they order you from a book?
Page seventy-three, a single look.
Just a blueprint and a number.
Waking a forest from its slumber.
And the men who raised your frame,
Did anyone record their name?
Just the hammers, tap-tap-tapping,
While the city map was mapping
Its way east.

[Outro]
Your clapboard skin is painted gray.
You've watched a century of days.
Still standing.
The porch swing makes a gentle creak.
You hold the stories that you keep.
And you don't speak.