With my family on the right hand side, and your family on the left, we got married in a single bed. We sang shaker hymns. When your warhorse grandfather had sung the whole damn Song of Solomon, we toasted health in the front room. We whiled away the afternoon. Ma fleur struck down with sickness! The young medicine man's got his face in a book. More bottles than the trees in green England and not one of them will do my love no good. In the morning I'm light, in the evening I'm heavy now. Try as I might I just can't keep it steady now.