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Molly McGuire
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Molly is a bit touched...so folks think...but there is one other in the village who is right in tune with her. But we're all a bit touched in some way.
male acoustic vocals folk
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Artist picture
Colorado songwriter/performer. Day job: Firefighter Night Job: Dreamer
Song Info
Genre
Pop Indie Pop
Charts
#1,526 in subgenre Peak #25
Charts
Peak #249
Author
Skip Wilson/inspired by Mary Pat McKenna
Rights
2004
Uploaded
January 12, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.8 MB 128 kbps 5:16
Lyrics
Molly McGuire she lived all alone. Down by the river's edge in a house made of stone. The roof was thatched with Scottish flax that kept out the rain and snow. For twenty-nine years it's the only gold she's known. Molly McGuire, she talked to the trees. Claimed she found her answers while they floated on the breeze. People came from miles around to see this girl insane. But Molly kept on talking...and smiling just the same. Molly McGuire...barefoot through the stream. Hiking up her knickers as paisley as her dreams. The river here runs cold and deep along the Highland way. But Molly watched the treetops bend to guide her on her way. CHORUS: Molly McGuire...sing your song to me the whispers in the trees everytime the wind blows down my mind Molly McGuire...you know that I believe the talk between the leaves everytime the wind blows down my mind. Molly McGuire...ever since she was a child... had this gentle silence and a sapphire in her smile She would sit for hours beneath the tall oak trees Listenin’ to the whispers and the talk between the leaves. Molly McGuire...she tried to explain. But all the village people though the girl insane. So off she ran into the night ...cold and all alone Listenin’ for the whispers...the ones to guide her home. Molly McGuire!!! ...came a voice amidst the crowd. I can hear those voices girl...I can hear them clear and loud. Molly turned to see the boy with eyes as soft as rain. She took his hand and off they ran...they were never seen again. You could hear him singing, Molly McGuire...sing your song to me the whispers in the trees everytime the wind blows down my mind Molly McGuire...you know that I believe the talk between the leaves everytime the wind blows down my mind.
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