Won't Want for Love (Margaret in the Taiga) - The Decemberists

Gentle leaves, gentle leaves

Please array a path for me

The woods are blowing thick and fast around

Columbine, Columbine

Please alert this love of mine

Let him know his Margaret comes along

And all this stirring inside my belly

Won’t quell my want for love

And I may swoon from all this swelling

But I won’t want for love

Mistlethrush, Mistlethrush

Lay me down in the underbrush

My naked feet grow weary with the dusk

Willow Boughs, Willow Boughs,

Make a bed to lay me down

Let your branches bow to cradle us

And all this stirring inside my belly

Won’t quell my want for love

And I may swoon from all this swelling

But I won’t want for love

Oh, my own true love

Oh, my own true love

Can you hear me, love?

Can you hear me, love?

And all this stirring inside my belly

Won’t quell my want for love

And I may swoon from all this swelling

But I won’t want for love

Won’t want for love…

Won’t want for love…

Won’t want for love…