Oh, the glory of true love Is a wild and precious thing It don't grow on old magnolias Or only blossom in the spring No, the glory of true love Is it
the back of a dirty book store A plastic flag, with gum on the back fell out on the floor Well, I picked it up and I ran outside, slapped it on my window
going high, high, up on some lonesome hill I'm going high, high, up on some lonesome hill Look down on Bear Creek where my good gal used to live Way up on
She is my everything From her sun tanned shoulders Down to the freckles on her wedding ring Her feet is so warm They can melt the snow in the early spring
Like a honey bee buzzin' 'round a glass of sweet Chablis Radio's on, windows rolled up and my mind's rolled down Headlights shining like silver moon's rollin' on