The Coolin (The Fair Haired One) Lyrics
Come with me, under my coat,
And we will drink our fill
Of the milk of a white goat,
Or wine if it be thy will,
And we will talk,
Until talk is a trouble, too,
Out on the side of the hill,
And nothing is left to do;
But an eye to look into an eye
And a hand in a hand to slip
And a sigh to answer a sigh
And a lip to find out a lip,
What if the night be black,
And the air on the mountain chill,
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Where the goat lies down in her track,
And all but the fern is still,
Stay with me, under my coat,
And we will drink our fill
Of the milk of the white goat,
Out of the side of the hill,
