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.