You scraped some old paint off the door;

I put spackle in holes in the wall.

We took a break, smoked cigarettes,

Then back to work we cheerly went.

You scraped and swore at something hard;

I sang “Home On The Range” so gladly!

Then, paint cans open, brushes poised,

We attacked the kitchen like mad!

Your pony tail bobbed as I glanced and smiled;

You were fast and not too wild.

I finished the ceiling while you were kneeling

And didn’t splatter you even once.

We sat down for lunch—coffee for two,

Your white-tipped chin the soul of you.

Then into the dining room—it was small—

We got out rollers and chose a wall.

And up and down and up we sang,

“She’ll be comin’ round the mountain in the rain!”

We laughed and laughed at our freckles new

Till I left my soul on the lips of you.