| Walking on velvet green, Scot’s pine growing
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| Isn’t it rare to be taking the air?
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| Singing, walking on velvet green
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| Walking on velvet green, distant cows lowing
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| Never a care, with your legs in the air
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| Loving, walking on velvet green
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| Won’t you have my company? |
| Yes, take it in your hands
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| Go down on velvet green with a country man
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| Who’s a young girl’s fancy and an old maid’s dream
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| Tell your mother that you walked all night on velvet green
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| One dusky half hour’s ride up to the North
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| There lies your reputation and all that you’re worth
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| Where the scent of wild roses turns the milk to cream
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| Tell your mother that you walked all night on velvet green
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| And the long grass blows in the evening cool
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| And August’s rare delights may be April’s fool
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| But think not of that my love, I’m tight against the seam
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| And I’m growing up to meet you down on velvet green
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| Now I may tell you that it’s love and not just lust
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| And if we live the lie, let’s lie in trust
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| On golden daffodils, to catch the silver stream
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| That washes out the wild oat seed on velvet green
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| We’ll dream as lovers under the stars
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| Of civilizations raging afar
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| And the ragged dawn breaks on your battle scars
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| As you walk home cold and alone upon velvet green |