She Moved Through The Fair
My young love said to me,
my mother won’t mind.
And my father won’t slight you for your lack of kind.
Then she lay her hand on me
and this she did say,
“ Oh it will not be long now till our weeding day.”
and she moved through the fair.
As fondly I watched her move here and move there.
Then she turned homeward with one star awake.
Like a swan in the evening
moves over a lake.
My dead love came in.
So softly she moved that her feet made no din.
And she lay down beside me, and this she did say,
“ Oh it will not be long love, til our wedding day.”
Michael - violin
Jubal - percussion
A 2911 Productions, Not Your Mama's Folk Records
All rights reserved.
Revised: January 24, 2012 10:36 AM Eastern Standard Time.