| Rowing, ringing, cares a-flinging
|
| As we ride this boat of hide
|
| All eagle-eyed and dignified
|
| Down the river, across the great divide
|
| Words reside
|
| At the highest of tides
|
| With my bona fide bride
|
| She’s my
|
| Touring guide
|
| And, yes, we both do reside
|
| On this riverside
|
| Where we hide
|
| Vacation’s a lot of work
|
| But here we are with ringing bells
|
| And floating on this cockleshell
|
| My pal grins
|
| Hugs the wind and sighs
|
| We realize
|
| With our blank minds aside
|
| Only to see the mystery
|
| Of many books floating free
|
| And those books are free indeed
|
| There’s one caught in the weed
|
| Let’s get it
|
| Go get that lovely book
|
| Let’s grab those lovely books
|
| Gather up all these books
|
| We’re getting looks, looks
|
| We’re getting the looks
|
| These lovely, bloody books
|
| Arms full of lovely books
|
| Freely collecting books
|
| We’re getting funny looks
|
| While we are
|
| Stacking, organizing, filing
|
| Piling way up high and rising
|
| Dewey, dusty decimalizing
|
| Sorting, tracking, systemizing
|
| Can’t believe we found this vintage
|
| We now have such great advantage
|
| Great, they’ll look in our library
|
| Let’s get going and let us hurry
|
| Now, now
|
| Now, now
|
| Hey, hey, hey
|
| What do they say?
|
| Collections sit and beg to play
|
| Wanting to give
|
| And speak with us
|
| But neatly packed
|
| And nicely put away
|
| What to do?
|
| For I’ve heard they are good
|
| But we’ve also been told
|
| They can’t be understood
|
| By simpletons like me
|
| And should never be
|
| So why try?
|
| Crack into all those books
|
| The lovely, bloody books
|
| We open up these books
|
| We’re taking looks, looks
|
| We’re taking a look
|
| Time to hit the books
|
| The lovely, bloody books
|
| Arms full of lovely books
|
| Open up all these books
|
| It’s got the
|
| Words of one who made the river
|
| Blood that’s flowing through the soil
|
| I got books, I just don’t read them
|
| Cleaning scraps up from the table
|
| Flipping through with fingers pointing
|
| At the letters and the numbers
|
| Straining eyes and feeling better
|
| Wondering how to be members
|
| How now?
|
| How now?
|
| And I’m turning the page
|
| While I’m center stage
|
| It is starting to sink
|
| And I’m to the brink
|
| With my plans in pencil
|
| While the vision’s in ink
|
| What to think?
|
| My left brain tells me I’m a fool
|
| My right brain tells me it’s true, true
|
| I only am knowing one thing
|
| I like hearing good news
|
| It’s true, it’s true, it’s true and it’s false
|
| Gonna cost myself
|
| For these books
|
| Taking one second look
|
| Gonna call my counselor now
|
| He’s gonna clear
|
| Clear confusion
|
| Then explain everything
|
| These books steer our ship with good news
|
| For now I got nothing to lose
|
| My brother remembers
|
| A thousand; |
| I can’t quote you one line
|
| But oh now I shall
|
| Know all of your ways
|
| With warm cockles into my heart
|
| And dancing to hits
|
| And skipping around
|
| Around on unsinkable ships |