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