Love and maple syrup goes together. Like the sticky winds of winter. When they meet. When lonely lovers come to rest. Beneath the trees they do their best.
Looking at the rain. Feeling the pain. Of love lost running though. My brain. Looking at the wind. Watching it spin. The leaves along the street. You win.
From the railhead to the boatyard. From the factory to the farm. From the mine to the mill yard. I've weathered the storm. . From the bar room to the bedpost.
That long thin dawn, that long thin dawn is coming on again. . I've seen the hills of Frisco and the streets of Montreal. In every town I've been to I've had someone to call.
Where the long river flows it flows by my window. Where the tall timber grows, it grows 'round my door. Where the mountain meets the sky and the white clouds fly.
The leaves of grass will not pass on. Though the millstones grind them into dust. For the earth shall give new life to them. But only the grass will grow once more.
Another lazy mornin', no need to get down on anyone. My son, coffee's in the kitchen, woman on the run. No need to get bothered, I'll think about Monday.