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It's the Widow now that owns that angry plow, The spartan Mule and The Crippled Cow The fallow field that will yield no more, As the fox lay sleeping beneath her kitchen floor The stream can't contain such the withering rain, And from the pasture the fence it is leaning away The clouds crack and growl Like some great cat on the prowl Crying out, "I am, I am" over and over again The days grow short As the nights grow long The kettle sings it's tortured song As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow, Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now The winter birds have come back again, Here the sprightly Chickadee Gone now is the Willow Wren In passing greet each other as if old, old friends And to the voiceless trees It is their own they will lend The days grow short As the nights grow long The kettle sings it's tortured song As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow, Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now And though all these things will change, The memories will remain As green to gold, and gold to brown The leaves will fall to feed the ground And in their falling, make no sound Oh my lady, Lady I am loving you now I've gathered all my money and I'm goin' to town, To buy my lady a long and flowing gown 'Cause come tomorrow morning We're off to the county fair I'll find a yellow flower And I will lace it in her hair |
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