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Our Mother the Mountain
par
Townes Van Zandt
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My lover comes to me with a rose on her bosom The moon's dancin' purple all through her black hair And her ladies-in-waiting, she'll stand 'neath my window And the sun will rise soon on the false and the fair Sing a-to Lorelei-oh She tells me she comes from my mother the mountain And her skin fits her tightly and her lips do not lie She silently slips from her throat a medallion Slowly she twirls it in front of my eyes Sing a-to Lorelei-oh I watch her, I love her, and I long for to touch her The satin she's wearin' is shimmering blue And outside my window her ladies are sleeping My dogs are gone hunting, their howling is through Sing a-to Lorelei-oh So I reach for her hand and her eyes turn to poison And her hair turns to splinters and her flesh turns to brine She leaps 'cross the room, she stands in the window Screams that my first-born will surely be blind Sing a-to a-Lorelei-oh
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