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| Memories Of Salonika © Copyright George Papavgeris, March 2002 When winter's freezing wind came down the river The cobblestones would ice up overnight. We'd ride a plank downhill and cross the tram lines And get told off by passers by for giving them a fright. On Maydays the city went for picnics; We'd climb the hill of Thousand Trees at dawn; We'd play and sing and just before return we'd gather flowers, One garland round each neck and one more extra for the door. On summer nights, with arms around each other The girls along the promenade would stroll. The boys would wait for them by the White Tower To pass a message, catch a look or for a hand to hold. And by the statue of King Alexander Like sentries in the early morning mist The three of us around a lemonade with three long straws Tall stories we would trade about the ones we might have kissed. On Sundays after church they'd line the harbour With box of bait and fishing line and stool, Their faces like burnt ebony, but harder, Old sailors would dispence their tales like teachers at the school. We'd listen till the bells of Ay Dimitri For vespers chimed to call us home at night. And coming from the neighbourhood taverna in the dark The sound of the street organ was the perfect lullaby. CHORUS I can't erase the memories of Salonika. Remoteness and the passing years just stronger make the hold; Like distant music from a sweet harmonica That makes the heartstrings resonate to harmonies of old. |
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