when i was five
daddy put the family in the wagon
drove hard south and west for seven days
found the hills that feed the lazy Rio Chama
where the memories of all my horses graze
each winter brought the ghosts close,
springtime let 'em go
and the warmth of summer brought life
from Teber Valley down below
each year we'd hear the voices
that they'd raise up for the show
and oh.....
oh.....
sweet lavinia
she'd sing
she'd dance
she'd shout
she'd ask, "what's your ballad?
what's your ballad?
what's your ballad gonna be about?"
when i was twelve
she became the season i would wait for
the months between were only musing on the next
her words crept from every winter corner
in those Teber Valley gypsy dialects
with the warming i would watch
the lonely distance down the road
until the caravan appeared
and our smalltown overflowed
down the trailersteps she floated
across our mountain fields she glowed
oh.....
oh.....
sweet lavinia
she sang for me
and me alone
i had no doubt
she sang, "how you gonna?
how you gonna?
how you gonna let your tune play out?"
i truly thought i cracked her secrets though her lips never said so
and i spent more nights dreaming songs of her than she could ever know
it was more than just the world going 'round that would melt the winter snow
and clear as frozen crystal where i'd one day have to go
oh...
oh...
sweet lavinia
when i turned twenty
daddy helped me load up the wagon
i drove down the road so slow
down to the waters of the lazy Rio Chama
to the fertile Teber Valley down below
that winter brought the ghosts
even closer to our door
and we never saw lavinia
in our fields the year before
they said her parents both had perished
in the european war
oh...
oh.....
sweet lavinia
i hear her sing
i hear her dance
i hear her shout
i wonder what my ballad's gonna be
what my ballad's gonna be
what my ballad's gonna be
