The Coolin Lyrics

Come with me, under my coat

And we will drink our fill

Of the milk of the white goat

Or wine if it be thy will

And we will talk, until

Talk is a trouble, too

Out on the side of the hill

And nothing is left to do

But an eye to look into an eye

And a hand in a hand to slip

And a sigh to answer a sigh

And a lip to find out a lip

What if the night be black

And the air on the mountain chill

Where the goat lies down in her track

And all but the fern is still

Stay with me, under my coat

And we will drink our fill

Of the milk of the white goat

Out on the side of the hill