And I’d rather be deaf,
dumb, and stone blind
Than to know that your mornings
will never be mine

John Prine, songwriter


Magnolia Wind

I’d rather sleep in a box
like a bum on the street
than a fine feather bed
without your little ol’ cold feet
And I’d rather be deaf,
dumb, and stone blind
Than to know that your mornings
will never be mine
And I’d rather die young
Than to live without you
I’d rather go hungry
Than to eat lonesome stew
You know its once in a lifetime
And it won’t come again
Its here and its gone
On a Magnolia wind
I’d rather not walk
through the garden again
If I can’t catch your scent
If it ever comes to time
that it comes time to go
Pack your fiddle
Sis’ pack up your bow
If I can’t dance with you
then I won’t dance at all
I’ll just sit this this one out
with my back to the wall
And I’d rather not hear
pretty music again
If I can’t get your hopes
On a magnolia wind…
if I can’t catch your scent
On a magnolia wind