Make Hay Joanna Newsom

So long
So long
So long
So long
So long
My old friend died that way:
The accumulation of time
And the passing of days
Though she dug in her heels
Drug her wheels in the clay—
She dotted her eyes;
Crossed the teasels in her leaning dray
Where buzzards make circles
(And tillers make hay):
A dozen in kettle, committee & wake;

Where wind made the dust
And sin made the snake
And Mama made us
But what did I make?

And how was I to know
Down in our old goldmine
Where you were the king of the radio
And I was the keeper of Hi-Fi
And I was the queen of the rodeo
(And everybody'd know)
And you were the keeper of the lions;