Letras
I'd rather sleep in a box like a bum on the street
Than a fine feathered bed without your little old cold feet
And I'd rather be deaf, dumb and stone blind
Than to know that your mornings would never be mine
And I'd rather die young than to live without you
I'd rather go hungry than eat lonesome stew
You know it's once in a lifetime and it won't come again
It's here and it's gone on a magnolia wind
And I'd rather not walk through the garden again
If I can't catch your scent on a magnolia wind
Well if it ever comes time, it comes time to go
Sis, pack up your fiddle, sis, pack up your bow
If I can't dance with you then I won't dance at all
I'll just sit this one out with my back to the wall
And I'd rather not hear pretty music again
If I can't hear your fiddle on a magnolia wind
If I can't catch your scent on a magnolia wind