Never treats me sweet and gentle. The way he should. 'Cause I got it bad, and that ain't good. My poor heart is sentimental. Not made of wood. I got it bad, and that ain't good. But when the wee
Never treats me sweet and gentle. The way he should. 'Cause I got it bad, and that ain't good. My poor heart is sentimental. Not made of wood. I got it bad, and that ain't good. But when the wee
Night and stars above that shine so bright. The mystery of their fading light. That shines upon our Caravan Sleep upon my shoulder as we creep. Across the sands so I may keep. The memory of our Ca