You And I
Words by Woody Guthrie, Music by Jonatha Brooke
You ask of me how I feel about you, here is the way I feel and I feel,
When you see how free that I feel about you I hope that you'll feel this free of me.
You are my highland, I am your lowland;
You are my up land and I am your low land;
You are my dry land, I am your swampland;
You are my ocean, and I am your sea.
You are my high road, I am your low road;
I am your city and you are my town;
I am your northland, you are my southland;
You are my raindrops and I am your tears.
You are my bright fire, I am your ash pile;
I am your fingers and you are my hands;
You are my sunshine, I am your starlight;
You are my woman, I am your man.
I am your tree limb, you are my leaf bed;
You are my canyon, I am your cliff rock;
You are my dance and I am your song;
We are the right and we are the wrong.
You are my sidestreet, I am your sidewalk;
You are my clothes and I am your line;
You are tall tree, I am your underbrush;
We both are life and we both are death.
I am your midnight, midnight and dark night;
You are my room, and my chair and my bed;
You are my babies, I am your children;
We are the graveyard, but not the dead.
You are my firefly, I am your night hawk;
You are the lake and I am the pool;
You are my free winds kissing the sweet leaves;
I am your college and you are my school.
You are my fast horse, you are my high prize;
You are the loser, losing, and lost;
You are my best friend and my worst enemy;
I am the price and you are the cost.
You are my book shelf, I am your whole shelf;
You are my guitar, I am your harp;
You are my courthouse, I am your judge and jury;
I live in church steeples, you live in bells.
I kiss your wild winds, you kiss my rain storms;
I kiss your flowers while you kiss my grass;
I'll be your honey drinker, you be my clear thinker;
I'll kiss your future and you kiss my past.
You be my sea lanes, I'll kiss your wild waves;
You kiss my salt spray, I'll drink your foam;
You be my homing pigeon, I'll be your true religion;
You be my house here, I'll be your home.
You be my wings spread, I'll be your high head;
You be my apple and I'll be your plum;
You be my job of work, I'll be your paycheck;
I'll be your stiff wind blowing you home.
You be my daddy, I'll be your mama;
You be my uncle and I'll be your aunt;
You be my grandma, I'll be grandpa;
You be my dollars and I'll be your cents.
You be my dust mop, I'll be your best broom;
I'll be your whirlwind, you be my field;
You be my easy come, I'll be your easy go;
You be my orchestra, and I'll be your tune.
You be my open spaces, I'll be your high places;
You be my night gown and I'll be your belt;
You be my car and I'll be your wheels.
You be my reindeer, I'll be your Santa Claus.
Words © Copyright 2011 by Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc
Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc. administered by Bug Music
7750 Sunset Boulevard / Los Angeles, CA 90046
T: 323-969-0988 / E: email@example.com