Mary Call, Mary Call. You never stumble, you never fall. Silver stars and lilies call. For the yearning of the young one. Named Mary Call. She's the treasure of the mountains.
In the quiet morning. There was much despair. And in the hours that followed. No one could repair. . That poor girl. Tossed by the tides of misfortune.
We may not always be the best of lovers. But if you leave it to me I think I can see. We'll always be the best of friends. . And one day when I am old and on the porch.