Blue green water, willows weeping, silver stars
She sings and sighs as the shuttle flies
Through the yarn like a Kerry dancer
Pink and purple velvet red for a lover's bed
Living north of San Francisco
With a man who build his house alone
Living peaceful in the country
The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home
She is a spinner, in her hands the wooden wheel
Turns the wool around and around again
The gypsy from Bolinas sits and plays the mandolin
Faces smile in the firelight of a foggy night
Living north of San Francisco
Sometimes it's nice to be alone
She says it's peaceful where she is living
The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home
You can see the bridges of the city
Hanging in the air by steel and stone
She says it's peaceful where she's living
The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home
She is a weaver, through her hand the bright thread travels
Blue green water, willows weeping, silver stars
She is my sister, the baby born when I was older
Her hands are light, her hair is bright as the summer sun
Living north of San Francisco
Sometimes it's nice to be alone
She says it's peaceful in the country
The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home
The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home
She is a weaver, through her hands the bright thread travels Blue green water, willows weeping, silver stars She sings and sighs as the shuttle flies Through the yarn like a Kerry dancer Pink and purple velvet red for a lover's bed Living north of San Francisco With a man who build his house alone Living peaceful in the country The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home She is a spinner, in her hands the wooden wheel Turns the wool around and around again The gypsy from Bolinas sits and plays the mandolin Faces smile in the firelight of a foggy night Living north of San Francisco Sometimes it's nice to be alone She says it's peaceful where she is living The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home You can see the bridges of the city Hanging in the air by steel and stone She says it's peaceful where she's living The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home She is a weaver, through her hand the bright thread travels Blue green water, willows weeping, silver stars She is my sister, the baby born when I was older Her hands are light, her hair is bright as the summer sun Living north of San Francisco Sometimes it's nice to be alone She says it's peaceful in the country The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home The lights of the Golden Gate will lead her home Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
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