With lazy silver emerald dewy feel
As me travels singing
Mother Maybelle
As if came ringing...
Her Wildwood
Flowers blooming there
me finds as if like heaven
And me travels the hills and the lands uneven
Like smooth,
As if Mother Maybelle makes me
A room...
While journeying the road
As if it is only filled
With sunny light gold
And the sky...
So so blue and wide...
Written beautiful
Written in times roman bold...
(Note:~ on Mother Maybelle...and her blues like Wildwood Flower)
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