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Trina wears her wampum beads |
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She fills her drawing book with line |
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Sewing lace on widow's weeds |
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And filigree on leaf and vine |
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Vine and leaf are filigree |
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And her coat's a second-hand one |
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Sewn in antique luxury |
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She is a lady of the canyon |
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Annie sits you down to eat |
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She always makes you welcome in |
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Cats and babies around her feet |
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And all are fat and none are thin |
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None are thin and all are fat |
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She may bake some brownies today |
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Saying you are welcome back |
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She is another canyon lady |
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Estrella, circus girl |
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Comes wrapped in songs and gypsy shawls |
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Songs like tiny hammers hurled |
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At beveled mirrors in empty halls |
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Empty halls and beveled mirrors |
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Sailing seas and climbing banyans |
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Come out for a visit here |
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To be a lady of the canyon |
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Trina takes her paints and thread |
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And weaves a pattern all her own |
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Annie bakes her cakes and breads |
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And gathers flowers for her home |
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For her home she gathers flowers |
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And Estrella, dear companion |
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Colors up the sunshine hours |
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Pouring music down the canyon |
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Coloring the sunshine hours |
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They are the ladies of the canyon |
