Lyrics

Hey, here's news:
a lucky boy with buck blues
and no way to lose those
whatcha-gonna-do-lad? buck blues
"O Queen," he prays,
a long sigh, his heart aching
to be some kind of
happy-drone-flying, hive-bent guy.

Hold your horses,
find out, find in;
Boy, your course is
straight on till end.
Oh, those forces:
what gives? who wins?
Chops, charge, words-at-large
say where, say when.

Love has keys:
a fine girl with rare ease and
enough of need
to raise that kind of plea?that's razor ease

When it's done,
that small thing, the porch swinging,
the blend, the sum
of all that kind of fun?then run, boy, run!
Yes, time to fly,
blood tide it was, the moon drew you
so high, now pay
that fiddler his due for your lad-buck blues.

Hold your horses, I said:
find out, find in;
Boy, your course is
straight on till end.
Oh, those forces:
what gives? who wins?
Chops, charge, words-at-large
say where, say when.