Florabelle

Florabelle, passing like a desert rose

With rouge on her cheeks and the sun upon her nose

Florabelle, never one to fuss

As she leaned into her will, scattered into dust

Florabelle the stories that you tell

As wide as this river, as deep as that well

Florabelle

Well she raised a wild bunch like a single mother can

And vowed to herself that she would never feel that hand

Again, or ever, even in that small town

Where the leaves would change their color, even sixty years on down

Florabelle the stories that you tell

As wide as this river, as deep as that well

Florabelle

And I got to know her well

After both her sons had died

And the softness of her hands

Holding all that life inside

She'd tell me a secret

And you know I kept it well

As she leaned into her language

Like she did Florabelle

Florabelle the stories that you tell

As wide as this river, as deep as that well

Florabelle