| It's only when the high winds blow | |
| That I wish my hair was long | |
| Sailing through the autumn leaves | |
| Singing an ancient song | |
| Or falling in love in the streets at night | |
| At the edge of a local square | |
| It's only that I'm here tonight | |
| Thinking I was there | |
| There are high winds on the pier tonight | |
| My soul departs from me | |
| Striding like Thalia's ghost south | |
| On the murky sea | |
| And into midnight's tapestry she fades | |
| Ragged and wild | |
| Searching down her ancestry | |
| In the costume of a Persian child | |
| And gulf winds bring me flying fish | |
| That shine in the crescent moon | |
| Show me the horizon | |
| Where the dawn will break anew | |
| And cool me here on this lonely pier | |
| Where the heron are flying low | |
| Echo the songs my father knew | |
| In the towns of Mexico | |
| When I was young my eyes were wise | |
| My father was good to me | |
| Instead of having a flock of sons | |
| He had two other girls and me | |
| And if we had used our Spanish names | |
| Here's the way they'd run | |
| Thalia, Margarita and Juanita | |
| I'm the middle one | |
| The screen door kept the demons in | |
| As we moved from town to town | |
| It's hard to be a princess in the States | |
| When your skin is brown | |
| And mama smoothed my worried brow | |
| As I leaned on the kitchen door | |
| Why do you carry the weight, she said | |
| Of the world and maybe more? | |
| And gulf winds bring me flying fish | |
| That shine in the crescent moon | |
| Show me the horizon | |
| Where the dawn will break anew | |
| And cool me here on this lonely pier | |
| Where the heron are flying low | |
| Echo the songs my father knew | |
| In the towns of Mexico | |
| My grandfathers were ministers | |
| And it came on down the line | |
| My father preached in his parents | |
| Church when he was ten years and nine | |
| And mama dressed in parishioner's | |
| Clothes and didn't believe in hell | |
| Her daddy fought the DAR | |
| If he'd lived I'd have known him well | |
| They said go find a Sunday School | |
| We must have tried them all | |
| I never stole from the silver plate | |
| My sisters had more gall | |
| One preacher said sing out loud and clear | |
| It's the only life you've got | |
| And the next one said be good on earth | |
| You've another life at the feet of God | |
| And gulf winds bring me flying fish | |
| That shine in the crescent moon | |
| Show me the horizon | |
| Where the dawn will break anew | |
| And cool me here on this lonely pier | |
| Where the heron are flying low | |
| Echo the songs my father knew | |
| In the towns of Mexico | |
| My father turned down many a job | |
| Just to give us something real | |
| It's hard to be a scientist in the States | |
| When you've got ideals | |
| And mama kept the budget book | |
| She kept the garden, too | |
| Bought fish from the man on Thursday | |
| Fed all of us and strangers, too | |
| But time will pass and so, alas | |
| Will most of what we know | |
| Though tonight my memory's eye is | |
| Clear as the story's being told | |
| And I'll play ball with the underdog | |
| And sit with the child who's wrong | |
| Be still when the earth is silent | |
| And sing when my strength is gone | |
| And gulf winds bring me flying fish | |
| That shine in the crescent moon | |
| Show me the horizon | |
| Where the dawn will break anew | |
| And cool me here on this lonely pier | |
| Where the heron are flying low | |
| Echo the songs my father knew | |
| In the towns of Mexico | |
| Now father's going to India | |
| Sometime in the fall | |
| They tried to stay together | |
| But you just can't do it all | |
| I'll think about him if he goes | |
| There's a little gray in his hair | |
| Though not much because he's Mexican | |
| They don't age, they just prepare | |
| And if he goes to India | |
| I'll miss him most of all | |
| He'll see me in the mudlarks' face | |
| Hear me in the beggar's call | |
| And mama will stay home, I guess | |
| And worry if she did wrong | |
| And I'll say a prayer for both of them | |
| And sing them both my song | |
| And gulf winds bring me flying fish | |
| That shine in the crescent moon | |
| Show me the horizon | |
| Where the dawn will break anew | |
| And cool me here on this lonely pier | |
| Where the heron are flying low | |
| Echo the songs my father knew | |
| In the towns of Mexico |