Grande Lyrics - Le Grande - Laura Gibson

When the moon carves a trail down the pine-bearded hills 

And a ghost-wind hollers to the early morn 

And the starlings return to the old sugar mill 

Stealing their corn from the grower's field 

Oh, I'll be no more 

When we've covered our hands in the bone-white clay 

And we've shaken the dust from every boot and spur 

We have counted our days in planks and rails 

We have kept our spirits in the dancing halls 

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Oh, I'll be no more 

When a cold corner stage in the back of the room 

Holds a house band carrying an orphan tune 

I would swing, I would sway, I would pull my hips 

To the sad chorus playing on the overheads 

Oh, I'll be no more 

Oh, I'll be no more 

Still to this day 

I can hear the whistle blow 

I can smell the sage burn 

I may be as old and stubborn as a pine 

But I am just as wild as the young 

Photos 

When a ribbon is curved round the blue-shadowed hills 

And the hot steel is humming down the Union Line 

Whip-thin, hickory-black, tap-tapping 

Our sad-faced chatter into rhythm and rhyme 

Oh, I'll be no more 

Oh, I'll be no more