Take her to the river 

Call her a river-child 

Take her to the forest 

Call her a little wild 

Sell her to the gypsy 

For a jar of metal coins 

Take her to the mountain 

And thrust yourself 

Into her loins 



Calico 

Calico 

Calico 

Her lips are white as snow 



She moved to the mountains 

With a box all chiseled sharp 

She moved to the highlands 

With a box of books all dark 

I knew her in the city 

She and I would dance the night 

Drink the wine of dripping berries 

Toss the moon and count the lights 



Calico 

Calico 

Calico 

Her skin is soft as snow 



Take her to the river 

Call her a river-child 

Take her to the forest 

Call her a little wild