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ROCK SALT AND NAILS {Bruce Phillips) On the banks of the river Where the willows hang down And the wild birds all warble With a low moaning sound Down in some hollow Where the water runs cold It was there I first listened To the lies that you told Now I lie on my bed And I see your sweet face The past I remember Time cannot erase The letter you wrote me Was written in shame And I know that your conscience Still echoes my name The nights are so long And the sorrow runs deep And nothing is worse Than a night without sleep I walk out alone And look up at the sky Too empty to sing Too lonesome to cry If the ladies were blackbirds Or if the ladies were thrushes I'd lie up all day In the cold misty marshes If the ladies were squirrels With their high bushy tails I'd fill up my shotgun With rock salt and nails recorded by Phillips, Rosalie Sorrels filename[ ROCKSALT JN oct96 |
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