|
If I were an owl, flying high,
what would I think, what would I think if I
saw me* dancing, dancing
high on a hill, alone in the dark,
under a star-filled sky?
If I were an owl hunting for mice, so crunchy, so sweet,
what would I think, what would I think if I
heard me singing, singing
high on a hill, alone in the dark,
under a star-bright sky?
'No moon! No moon!' I might cry, if I
were an owl, 'She can't be a witch
for there's no moon,
she's too many clothes,
she's got no broom,
and she can't fly!
If I were an owl and I heard me sing, singing a song
in a tongue unknown, I would sing too,
and my wordless song would come echoing back
from the nearby hills to me dancing, dancing
there on the starlit track.
If I were an owl, soaring high, what would I see?
What I would see, if I saw me, is a fat old lady
in too many clothes (it's cold enough, tha certainly knows)
doing her thing, with a light-full heart,
under a star-filled sky
|
|