| Lover, tell me, if you can
|
| Who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?
|
| Times being what they are
|
| Hard, and getting harder all the time
|
| Lover, when I sing my song
|
| All the rivers will sing along
|
| And they’re gonna break their banks for me
|
| Lay their gold around my feet
|
| All a-flashing in the pan
|
| All to fashion for your hand
|
| The rivers are gonna give us the wedding bands
|
| Lover, tell me, if you’re able
|
| Who’s gonna lay the wedding table?
|
| Times being what they are
|
| Dark, and getting darker all the time
|
| Lover, when I sing my song
|
| All the trees are gonna sing along
|
| And bend their branches down to me
|
| To lay their fruit around my feet
|
| The almond and the apple
|
| And the sugar from the maple
|
| The trees gonna lay the wedding table
|
| Lover, tell me, when we’ll wed
|
| Who’s gonna make the wedding bed?
|
| Times being what they are
|
| Hard, and getting harder all the time
|
| Lover, when I sing my song
|
| All the birds gonna sing along
|
| And they’ll come flying round to me
|
| To lay their feathers at my feet
|
| And we’ll lie down in eiderdown
|
| A pillow 'neath our heads
|
| The birds are gonna make the wedding bed
|
| And the trees are gonna lay the wedding table
|
| And the rivers are gonna give us the wedding bands |