Postcards From Italy

The times we had
Oh when the wind would blow with rain or snow
Were not all bad
We put our feet just where they had
Had to go, never to go
They chattered so
Following close but nearly twice as slow
In my good times, there were always golden rocks to throw
At those who
Those who admit defeat too late
Those were our times
Those were our times

And I would have loved to see that day
That day is mine when she
Will marry (bury) me outside
With the willow trees
And play the songs that made
That made me so
And I would have loved to see that day
That day was mine