Mary my dear,

SPOON RIVER
by Michael Peter Smith

All of the riverboat gamblers are losing their shirts.
And all of the brave Union soldier boys sleep in the dirt,
But you know and I know there never was reason to hurt,
When all of our lives were entwined to begin with here in Spoon River.

All of the calico dresses, the gingham and lace,
Are up in the attic with grandfather's derringer case.
There's words whispered down in the parlor, a shadowy face,
The morning is heavy with one more beginning here in Spoon River.

Come to the dance, Mary Perkins; I like you right well.
The Union is preserved; if you listen you hear all the bells.
There must be a heaven; God knows, I've seen mostly hell,
My rig is outside; come and ride through the morning here in Spoon River.


Copyright 1970, Bird Avenue Publishing (BMI)

Enjoy the song! You wouldn't be Mary Perkins, now, would you?

Roger in Baltimore ^^