The Squirrel Crossed The Road

like a ribbon on a fan and the afternoon cicada threw a spell across this land and the waves rolled off the Georgian rocks and threw a friend upon the sand oh None now I understand that the searching never stops until you have a man in mind second booth the King's Head leave the ordinary men behind go ask them to play all the glorious love songs they can find as for you, Dewar now I understand that the searching never stops until you have a drink in hand drinking to your gloom in the slow-whirl licensed room ah, yes - she was lovely you told us (many times) 'neath the moon