Bud Petal blogs here, and is also on facebook, twitter, vimeo, and instagram.


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So We’ll Go No More A-Roving

So we'll go no more a-roving, so late into the night
We'll collect leaves in the morning, and give the cows a tip

We'll have a Parisian infant, je t'aime merci beaucoup
For every ointment they'll be a fly, and I'll regale you

So we'll go no more a-roving, by the waxing gibbous moon
For the night was made for loving, and the day returns too soon

[But] I'll be by your side as the mood swings and the mulch is laid.
And I promise the chickens will never come home to roast.

So we'll go no more a-roving, so late into the night
I'll place a noun in your auricle, by the seat of the pants

The elephant in the closet will overshadow and shoot its bolt
Your eyes sparkle to a fare-thee-well, up the garden path

[But] If we die before sate, I'll know we never tilted at windmills
And if you think that I’ll go and fly a kite, you know that is just pie in the sky...

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