The Well
I took my bucket down to the well There’s a woman, sweet mystery
She let the rope fall down in the well Like it was meant to be
She put the jug upon her head Walked with her back to the wind
I followed her tracks the moment she said “Why don’t you come in?”
She killed the light
She dropped her glove
She said, “Are you looking for trouble
Or looking for love, love, love?”
I woke in the mornin’ dying of thirst Headed straight back to the well There she was with the jug on her head The rope had just fell
The well in her eyes was deep and black With no question or answer
She wiped my brow and I followed her back To the Tropic of Cancer
She killed the light
She dropped her glove
She said, “Are you looking for trouble Or looking for love, love, love?”