I'd rather sleep in a box
Like a bum on the street
Than a fine feather bed
Without your little ol' cold feet
And I'd rather be deaf
Dumb and stone blind
Than to know that your mornings
Will never be mine
And I'd rather die young
Than to live without you
That I'd rather go hungry
Than to 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
If it ever comes time
That it comes time to go
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 catch your voice
On a magnolia wind
If I can't catch your scent
On a magnolia wind