Yesterday's newspapers forecast no rain for today But yesterday's news is old news, the skies are all grey Winter's in labour, soon to give birth to the spring That will sprinkle the meadow with flowers for my Angeline
Heartache and sorrow and sadness unendingly find Wings on a memory and with them she flies to my mind She stretched her arms for a moment then went back to sleep While the morning stood watching me, ever so silently weak
She opened her eyes, Lord, the minute my feet touched the floor The cold hard wood creaked with each step that I made to the door There I turned to her gently and said, Look, Hon, it's spring' Knowing outside the window the winter looked for Angeline
Yesterday's newspapers forecast no rain for today But yesterday's news is old news, the skies are all grey...