Ruth's Cafe

Ruth's Cafe

The days were cold and gray

And weighted with mud

We flew to the little town

Washed at the station

And went to Ruth's

We opened the door

And sat at a booth

Under their gaze

My hair wild like the wind

Ruth was always in back

But Colline

She always played a song

And came to let us look at her

Take our orders

And sit under our gaze

Colline

Like a fire in winter

Warmed our day