Coll. by Randy Terry For M.C. Parler
Mrs. W.F. Bell Fayetteville, Ark January 10, 1960
Reel 338, Item 3
None Shall Kiss My Rosy Lips
Oh, I wish to the Lord I had never been born Or died when I was young,
I never would have grieved my red, rosy cheeks Over any woman's son.
Oh, hush, my love, you'll break my heart,
I hate to hear you cry,
For the best of friends they must part,
So why not you and I?
Oh, who will shoe your feet, my love,
And who will glove your hand,
And who will kiss your rosy lips While I am in a distant land?
My father he will shoe my feet, my love;
Mother will glove my hand;
But none shall kiss my red-rosy cheeks While you're in a distant land.
Click tabs to swap between content that is broken into logical sections.