Her hair as black as the coal made,
It falls, flowing freely down her back
It falls as if it's been tied in a braid
Hanging there smooth, still and slack.
Her eyes are as green as the meadows grass
That holds my feet to the ground.
Getting her to listen is as hard as stepping on glass
But when she speaks to me, her voice sounds so profound.
I know her heart lies with another man
Her "cousin" as it may be.
I know that hope is all I can
I know things will change for me.
To me she's as special as a flower that blooms before spring
I know someday in the future, she'll wear my wedding ring.