Bavarian Roadside
Bavarian Roadside
Leave the chicory where it stands,It will wither in your handsIf you pick it;All its lovely blue will blackenTo a dull weed dry as bracken,Leave it leaning by the thicket,Leave it where it stands.If your hunger crave for blueLet the cornflower comfort you.Where the gray goats browse and bleat,All along the roadside dusty,Where the tides of early wheatProphesy a golden leavenWarm and crusty,Leave the tangled chicory,Bluer than the windy sky,Leave the jaunty bit of heavenTill it choose to die!If your thirst you cannot bear,Drink its color sparkling thereLike a blue wine brewed in air.
Leave the chicory where it stands,It will wither in your handsIf you pick it;All its lovely blue will blackenTo a dull weed dry as bracken,Leave it leaning by the thicket,Leave it where it stands.If your hunger crave for blueLet the cornflower comfort you.Where the gray goats browse and bleat,All along the roadside dusty,Where the tides of early wheatProphesy a golden leavenWarm and crusty,Leave the tangled chicory,Bluer than the windy sky,Leave the jaunty bit of heavenTill it choose to die!If your thirst you cannot bear,Drink its color sparkling thereLike a blue wine brewed in air.
Leave the chicory where it stands,It will wither in your handsIf you pick it;All its lovely blue will blackenTo a dull weed dry as bracken,Leave it leaning by the thicket,Leave it where it stands.
Leave the chicory where it stands,
It will wither in your hands
If you pick it;
All its lovely blue will blacken
To a dull weed dry as bracken,
Leave it leaning by the thicket,
Leave it where it stands.
If your hunger crave for blueLet the cornflower comfort you.
If your hunger crave for blue
Let the cornflower comfort you.
Where the gray goats browse and bleat,All along the roadside dusty,Where the tides of early wheatProphesy a golden leavenWarm and crusty,Leave the tangled chicory,Bluer than the windy sky,Leave the jaunty bit of heavenTill it choose to die!
Where the gray goats browse and bleat,
All along the roadside dusty,
Where the tides of early wheat
Prophesy a golden leaven
Warm and crusty,
Leave the tangled chicory,
Bluer than the windy sky,
Leave the jaunty bit of heaven
Till it choose to die!
If your thirst you cannot bear,Drink its color sparkling thereLike a blue wine brewed in air.
If your thirst you cannot bear,
Drink its color sparkling there
Like a blue wine brewed in air.