I write for all
o yes I do
with fiddletons and violins
wahoo the sound resounds
and smithy wicks the lips
so sweet, smooth
my feet can hardly beat a proper time
Nothing can beat it
or cheat me of this.
Our cheeks red from sun
from the life glow good
full of nutrition and soul vitamins.
I feel almost whole
as your fingers run strings
up and down my soul.
The brown beer never bitter here
and always a cozy winter
when my heart thinks of you.
Faces so warm from the sun.
The silk of your hair
looks like theirs.
Will you be like them
when you get old?
And will I be my mother?
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