Hang out the streamers, bring out the wine,
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Crack open the bottle, ¡®cause, baby, you¡¯re mine.
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There¡¯s bunting on the staircase and ribbons in the hall
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Some have a half measure, but I¡¯ve got it all.
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Let yours be the last face I see every night,
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Soft grows the roaster, the dawn clings so bright.
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When the stars are all staggering home and the light
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You¡¯re the string baby and I am the guide.
|
|
Hang out the streamers, bring out the wine
|
Crack open the bottle, ¡®cause, baby, you¡¯re mine.
|
There¡¯s bunting on the staircase and ribbons in the hall
|
Some have a half measure, but I¡¯ve got it all.
|
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Let your be the only hand that I hold,
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To have me, to hold me until I grow old.
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May your eyes be wide open and our hearts never cold
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I¡¯m the lost sheep and you are the fault.
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May I still read your face when my eyes lack the luster,
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In the warmth of the bed, in the cold winds that bluster.
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May the dust of sweet blessings rain on you tonight,
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I¡¯m string baby and you are the guide.
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|
String Baby
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| Kirsty McGee |
