Pale moon shining on the fields below. Folks are crooning songs soft and low. Needn't tell me so because I know. It's sleepy time down south. Soft winds blowing through the pinewood trees. Folks
You might hear I'd trade my love for beauty. Don't believe that stuff. It's a misunderstanding. Whatever I've got. It doesn't come cheaply. Not many have got. What it might take to keep me. .