Marguerite is always sleeping In the class she dreams away Monday I wrote her a note I slipped it in her quilted coat But Marguerite was fast asleep
Whisper, whisper lies or true I love everything that is in you Son you are mistaken Something quiet and small Turn the eyes of the world To the face
Black copper kettle a candle and a knife Silver and silk and a tie to catch their eye Patiently waiting the cover of the night Down from the hill to
