Darling, do not cling so tight to me,
remember there is more than at first you see;
and while I adore the soft spring morn -
too much, too fast and I'll slam the door.

Leave me to wander the fields slowly.
Let me enjoy the brooks soft flowing -
do not force the river, too much too fast;
or one fond caress may be your last.

I have felt the steely traps tight hold,
I know too much of being sold;
all too fast I lost my youth,
to that silky hangman's noose.

Let me roam free, let me run if I must;
for springs unused soon turn to rust.
And soon my hearts lot shall be cast,
I will love you so much, at last.