It's the Widow now that owns that angry plow,
The spartan Mule and The Crippled Cow
The fallow field that will yield no more,

As the fox lay sleeping beneath her kitchen floor

The stream can't contain such the withering rain,

And from the pasture the fence it is leaning away
The clouds crack and growl
Like some great cat on the prowl

Crying out, "I am, I am" over and over again

The days grow short

As the nights grow long
The kettle sings its tortured song
As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow,

Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now

The winter birds have come back again,

Here the sprightly Chickadee
Gone now is the Willow Wren
In passing greet each other as if old, old friends

And to the voiceless trees
It is their own they will lend


The days grow short
As the nights grow long
The kettle sings its tortured song

As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow,
Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now


And though all these things will change,
The memories will remain
As green to gold, and gold to brown

The leaves will fall to feed the ground
And in their falling, make no sound


Oh my lady,
Lady I am loving you now


I've gathered all my money and I'm goin' to town,
To buy my lady a long and flowing gown
'Cause come tomorrow morning

We're off to the county fair
I'll find a yellow flower
And I will lace it in her hair