I wonder if Joanna Newsome realizes how special she is; she is the angel in our dreams with a harp and a voice few can appreciate. I wish I could put her in my shirt pocket and carry her around. I am always humming this song; keeps me peaceful.
We sailed away on a winter's day
With fate as malleable as clay
But ships are fallible, I say
And the nautical, like all things, fades
A little wicker beetle-shell
With four fine masts and lateen sails
Its bearings on cair paravel
Oh it was a funny little thing
To be the ones to've seen
Makes calm canaries irritable
And they caw and claw all afternoon
Centenaries and dirigibles
A loom of metal, warp - woof - wimble
And a thimble's worth of milky moon
Can touch hearts larger than a thimble
Oh it was a funny little thing
To be the ones to've seen
Oh it was a funny little thing
It was a funny, funny little thing
To be the ones to've seen
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From "Milk-Eyed Mender"
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From "Milk-Eyed Mender"
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