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Like a high stepping pony strutting and prancing |
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Ah she's so full of life |
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Sparkling with tiny red roses |
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Let there be music to please her |
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Let it be sunbright to light up her day |
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Let the moon light her night |
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And fill her with deep silent sleepiness |
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If I were a small bird so tiny |
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I'd hide in her hair just to be near her |
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To hear her sweet voice |
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And feel her sweet body beside me |
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And if I were a high lord with riches |
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I'd clothe her in satin from |
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India's far highlands |
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I would shoe her in gold |
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Then invite her to sit at my table |
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Step out young lady a-dancing |
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To the sound of sweet music so gaily come singing |
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For your beauty so rare |
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Is as fresh as a sweet |
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Sunday morning |
