Ironwood Waltz

There's a girl who lives
In old Rockingham
Who lusts after all kinds
Of waltzes
She waltz through the rain
On sycamore Sundays
She waltz through
The troubles of man

Through the embers and ashes
Of poplar leaf pollen
Neath the strong lovin’ branches
Of the ironwoods frame
She waltz through the fields
Of July fire
And all through
The wild scent of hay

She waltz, she waltz
Through the fields of her father
Lawfully laboring and romancin’
She waltz, she waltz
Through toil and triumph
Keeping in time just the same

She raises up children
On faith and good promise
Leavens the daily bread of descent
She waltzes with baskets
Of wood and well water
With never a woe in her step

Through the years she’s a waltzin’
Tasting blessings and heart-ache
The jams of wild berries
The bitter tonics of loss
Sweat on her brow
From the toils of labor
With never a trace of regret

She waltz, she waltz
Through the fields of her father
Watching the skylight at sundown
She waltz, she waltz
With a child on her bosom
Rendering the blessings of man

This old world she’s a troubled
With populous peoples
Starving the fields of their grains
There’s daggers and arrows
And quills and fine needles
To pierce hearts
In various ways

Lest the constancy of seasons
Should halt in their rhythm
Lest the winds
Should always subside
Man will yet suffer
But joy shall not perish
The oceans
They waltz with the tides

We waltz, we waltz
Through the fields of our fathers
Following old ways best we can
We waltz, we waltz
For life's joy and life's sorrow
Sometimes they're a one in the same
Sometimes they’re a one in the same
Sometimes they’re a one in the same