In a pawn shop in Chicago on a sunny summer day, a couple gazes at the wedding rings their own display. She smiles and nods her head as he says, honey, that's for you. It's not much, but it's the best that I can do. Golden ring, with one tiny little stone, waiting there for someone to take it home by itself. It's just a cold, metallic thing, only love can make a golden wedding ring. In a little wedding chapel later on that afternoon, an old upright piano plays that old familiar tune. Tears roll down her cheeks and happy thoughts run through her head as he whispers, lo, with this ring, I'll be well. Golden ring, with one tiny little stone, shining ring, now at last it's found a home by itself. It's just a cold, metallic thing, only love can make a golden wedding ring. In a small two-room apartment as they fight their final round, he says, you won't admit it, but I know you're leaving town. She says one thing's for certain, I don't love you anymore, and throws down the ring as she walks out the door. Golden ring, with one tiny little stone, cast aside, like the love that's dead and gone by itself. It's just a cold, metallic thing, only love can make a golden wedding ring. In a pawn shop in Chicago on a sunny summer day, a couple gazes at the wedding rings their own display. Golden ring.