Calico

Take her to the river

Call her a river-child

Take her to the forest

Call her a little wild

Sell her to the gypsy

For a jar of metal coins

Take her to the mountain

And thrust yourself

Into her loins

Calico

Calico

Calico

Her lips are white as snow

She moved to the mountains

With a box all chiseled sharp

She moved to the highlands

With a box of books all dark

I knew her in the city

She and I would dance the night

Drink the wine of dripping berries

Toss the moon and count the lights

Calico

Calico

Calico

Her skin is soft as snow

Take her to the river

Call her a river-child

Take her to the forest

Call her a little wild