Winter Birds - Ray LaMontagne

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

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

Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now