Bluegrass Tune

Rolling in your arms on blue ridge hill
when that evening sun goes down,
listening to the whistle of the evening train
on the outskirts of crooked creek town.

You quiet the clatter of my troubled mind
while the birds take rest for the night,
and your heart holds mine like a honeysuckle vine
in the glow of the pale moonlight.

The rush of your touch is warmer than whiskey
and your lips are sweeter than dew,
I'll be yours my darling til the owl in the pine
sings hoo hoo ahoo cooks for you?

Rolling in your arms on blue ridge hill
when that evening sun goes down,
listening to the whistle of the evening train
on the outskirts of crooked creek town.