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The Moon's The Northwind's Cooky

de Burl Ives

The moon's the northwind's cooky
He bites it day by day
Until there's but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away

The southwind is a baker
He kneads clouds in his den
And bakes a crisp new moon
That greedy northwind eats again

The moon's the northwind's cooky
He bites it day by day
Until there's but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away

The southwind is a baker
He kneads clouds in his den
And bakes a crisp new moon
That greedy northwind eats again

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