One. I can do it a little slower. (Eight) One, two, one
Two. Wait, that's too slow. One, two, one, two, three, four
Three, four
Bridge
Second verse
Hey
Three, four
Morning comes
She follows the path to the river shore
Stepping free, she places her feet where they fell before
See the sun sparkle in the reeds, silver beads, sparkling sea
She comes from the town where they call her the woodcutter's daughter
She finds the bank where she kneels down to gather her water
She's learned to please in a way that the river has taught her
Let it flow, freely flow, wide and clear
Round and round, the cut of the plow in the furrowed field
Harvest dreams and stashes the corn for filing the ears
Broken ground, open and beckoning to the spring
Black dirt live again
The plowman is broad as the back of the land he's sowing
As he dances the circular track of the plow ever knowing
That the work of his days measures more than the planting and growing
Let it grow, greatly grow, wide and clear
(Bridge) What shall we say, shall we call it by a name?
As well to count the angels dancing on a pin
Water bright as the sky from which it came
Quiet are the names on the earth that takes it in
I will not speak but stand inside the rain
And listen to the thunder shout, "I am! I am! I am! I am!"
(Round and round, think what we've made since the world began)
Nothing more, the love of the women, the work of men
Seasons round, creatures great and small, up and down
As we rise and fall
What shall we say, shall we call it by a name?
As well to count the angels dancing on a pin
Water bright as the sky from which it came
Quiet are the names on the earth that takes it in
I will not speak but stand inside the rain
And listen to the thunder shout, "I am! I am! I am! I am!"
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