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She Moved Through the Fair

de Deborah Henson-Conant

I know it seems you've finally won her over
That you've taken her from these two arms of mine
But a taste of your love only makes her thirsty
And she still comes to me to pour the wine
She still comes to me when she gets lonely
When another's love has stopped she turns to mine
And though she may come to you to set the table
She still comes to me to pour the wine

I'm not surprised to see her clutch at your love
For she's been known to stray from time to time
But when she's had her fill of milk and honey
She still comes to me to pour the wine
She still comes to me...
She still comes to me to pour the wine

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