e.s.maki

e.s.maki

BandAmericana

Other Info

Cover band: 
No

Lyrics

Month of Sundays

Written By: Elizabeth Maki

There's a little red train
That runs down the tracks
And birds on the wire
That scare real fast

But she's no raven
No she's no crow
Though she shines in the sun
And she's gone as she comes, gone as she comes

Yodelehi
She was born in the belly of the swamp
it's unsteady ground, unsteady ground
And she can't seem to keep
From travelin' round, travelin' round
She's been gone a month of Sundays
From here to there, here to there
And each time she comes home
She worse for the wear, worse for the wear
Yodelehi

Look to the east
She looks to the west
Search this world over
I still love her the best

And when we were young
I made her a slingshot
I made it hard and fast
From oak to last, oak to last

And when we are grown
She'll come back for good
And I'll build her a cabin
Way up in the woods, high in the woods

Yodelehi
She was born in the belly of the swamp
it's unsteady ground, unsteady ground
And she can't seem to keep
From travelin' round, travelin' round
She's been gone a month of Sundays
From here to there, here to there
And each time she comes home
She worse for the wear, worse for the wear
Yodelehi

Rhubarb pie in the summer
Pumpkin soup in the fall
For her I'd swim a river
In the dead of winter, wearing nothing at all

And there ain't no man
Cross the whole of the country
Who can hold her hunger
In the palm of his hand, palm of his hand

But I know better
Than to try and pretend
I just send her letters
To bring her home again, home again

Yodelehi
She was born in the belly of the swamp
it's unsteady ground, unsteady ground
And she can't seem to keep
From travelin' round, travelin' round
She's been gone a month of Sundays
From here to there, here to there
And each time she comes home
She worse for the wear, worse for the wear
Yodelehi