Take her to the river Call her a river-child Take her to the forest Call her a little wild Sell her to the gypsy For a jar of metal coins Take her to the mountain And thrust yourself Into her loins Calico Calico Calico Her lips are white as snow She moved to the mountains With a box all chiseled sharp She moved to the highlands
With a box of books all dark I knew her in the city She and I would dance the night Drink the wine of dripping berries Toss the moon and count the lights Calico Calico Calico Her skin is soft as snow Take her to the river Call her a river-child Take her to the forest Call her a little wild