In the Yard

Last night I dreamed
 We'd found a stand of trees
 Framing a pond
 And a field in between
 And with a hammer and a blade
 And our four hands, here's what we made
 ♪
 The logs we peeled
 And stacked in a ring
 And then we crowned it
 Our tiny house, with tin
 And by the fire, flickering bronze and gold across your face
 I heard you say
 It may not be a grand parade of snow-capped peaks (oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh)
 No river silver-backed crashing through (oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh)
 But we have our black-haired babes, running free through the woods
 ♪
 Ooh, ooh
 Squirrels in the rafters, wrens in the eaves
 Red dirt 'neath our nails, orange stains on our knees
 Blackberries in June, down the path without our shoes
 ♪
 It may not be a grand parade of snow-capped peaks (oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh)
 No river silver-backed crashing through (oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh)
 But we have our black-haired babes, running free through the woods
 Ooh, ooh, ooh
 Ooh, ooh, ooh
 
 Ooh-ooh