The last time the moon was full the sun reneged its shine
The last time the moon was full it reaped his bitter fruit
The last time the moon was full blasphemed its holy three
The mundane had the magic annulled making vinegar out of wine
And the peddler wheeled his boxes a long way to the fair
To retrieve his green-eyed daughter knowing she had followed me there
As if to prove who owns the pull of tide and sacrifice
But I loved his green-eyed daughter and I brought her to that dance
What chance had I, a pauper, but that moon's enchanted trance
With his box of golden baubles and his pencil stubs as proof
The peddler lured the revelers back to their world of cares
With his calculated laughter and his "Johnny's so long at the fair"
Emasculating maypoles with material force and thieves
And I watched his green-eyed daughter as he placed her in his cart
Parading her as princess to eclipse her gypsy heart
To Order a copy of "A Sense of Place" please send a check or money order for $10 (CD only) plus $3 for shipping and handling to:
__Return to the "A Sense of Place" home page.
__Return to Steve & Cindy's Home Page.