Ray LaMontagne Lyrics

5. Winter Birds

It's the Widow now that owns that angry plow, 
The spartan Mule and The Crippled Cow 
The fallow field that will yield no more, 
As the fox lay sleeping beneath her kitchen floor 

The stream can't contain such the withering rain, 
And from the pasture the fence it is leaning away 
The clouds crack and growl 
Like some great cat on the prowl 
Crying out, "I am, I am" over and over again 

The days grow short 
As the nights grow long 
The kettle sings its tortured song 
As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow, 
Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now 

The winter birds have come back again, 
Here the sprightly Chickadee 
Gone now is the Willow Wren 
In passing greet each other as if old, old friends 
And to the voiceless trees 
It is their own they will lend 

The days grow short 
As the nights grow long 
The kettle sings its tortured song 
As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow, 
Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now 

And though all these things will change, 
The memories will remain 
As green to gold, and gold to brown 
The leaves will fall to feed the ground 
And in their falling, make no sound 

Oh my lady, 
Lady I am loving you now 

I've gathered all my money and I'm goin' to town, 
To buy my lady a long and flowing gown 
'Cause come tomorrow morning 
We're off to the county fair 
I'll find a yellow flower 
And I will lace it in her hair

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