(Bowers)

I saw a Berkeley woman sitting in a rocking chair. A dulcimer in her lap, feather in her hair.

Her breasts swayed freely with the rhythm of the rocking chair,

she was a sitting and a singing and a swaying, Her cheeks were red I declare.



'Twas hard to believe what my eyes showed me then,

the color in her cheeks was just her natural skin.

She wore no makeup to make her look that way.

She was a natural mama with the red cheeks, what more can I say?



Well, I finally realized there was hunger in my stare.

In my mind I was swaying with the woman in the rocking chair.

But the lady I was living with was standing right by my side,

she saw my stare and she saw the hunger and Lord, it made her cry.



So with anger on her face, yes and hurt in her eyes,

she scratched me and she clawed me, she screamed and she cried,

"oh, you don't give me near all the loving that you should,

yet you're ready to go and lay with her, well you're just no damn good."



Well, I guess she's probably right, oh, I guess I'm probably wrong.

I guess she's not too far away, she hasn't been gone very long.

And I guess we could get together and try it one more time,

but I know that wanderlust would come again, she'd only wind up a-crying.



Well, now you've heard my story as plain as the light of day.

It's hard to feel guilty for loving the ladies, that's all I gotta say.

Except a woman is the sweetest fruit that God ever put on the vine,

I'd no more love just one kind of woman than drink only one kind of wine.