调：C major•
Verse 1
flies from pine to pine
Mourning for her own true love
as I will mourn for mine
As I will mourn for mine
I'm but a country boy,
money have I none,
But there's silver in the moon,
gold in the rising sun,
gold in the rising sun.
Here I sit on a carpet thick,
feathers from the wing,
feathers to caress me,
birds to hear me sing,
birds to hear me sing.
Woody knows nothing
but peckin' on a bough
Under skies of blue
Never knew till I met you
What love, love, could do
What love, oh love, could do
Can't you see that turtle dove
Flies from pine to pine,
Mournin' for her own true love,
As I will mourn for mine,
As I will mourn for mine.
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