Gentle leaves, gentle leaves,
|
Please array a path for me
|
The woods are growing thick and fast around
|
Columbine, columbine,
|
Please alert this love of mine
|
Let him know his Margaret comes along
|
|
And all this stirring inside my belly
|
Won’t quell my want for love
|
And I may swoon from all this swelling
|
But I won’t want for love
|
|
Mistlethrush, mistlethrush,
|
Lay me down in the underbrush
|
My naked feet grow weary with the dusk
|
Willow boughs, willow boughs,
|
Make a bed to lay me down
|
Let your branches bow to cradle us
|
|
And all this stirring inside my belly
|
Won’t quell my want for love
|
And I may swoon from all this swelling
|
But I won’t want for love
|
|
Oh my own true love,
|
Oh my own true love,
|
Can you hear me love?
|
Can you hear me love?
|
|
And all this stirring inside my belly
|
Won’t quell my want for love
|
And I may swoon from all this swelling
|
But I won’t want for love
|
|
Won’t want for love
|
Won’t want for love
|
I won’t want for love
|
|
-----------------
|
Won't Want for Love
|
| The Decemberists |
