Slowly, slowly, walk the path,

And you might never stumble or fall.

Slowly, slowly, walk the path,

And you might never fall in love at all.



CHORUS:

Golden, golden, is her hair,

Like the morning sun over fields of corn.

Golden, golden, is her love,

So sweet and clear and warm.



Lonely, lonely, is the heart

That ne'er another can call its own.

Lonely, lonely, lies the part

That has to live all alone.



Wildly, wildly, beats the heart

With a rush of love like a mountain stream.

Wildly, wildly, play your part

As free as a wild bird's dream