Slow down my little, red headed girl.  

There’ll be plenty of mountains to climb.

Is your hand in your pocket? Are the pebbles still there?

The red ones you found the last time . . . 

ohhhh, in the meadow, where you spun, arms out, eyes on the sky.

Not a care or a worry about what comes next;

the next meal, as darkness grows nigh.

Button up that wool coat my growin’ up girl.

When school’s out you’ll still walk a mile.

Do your brothers still range, collectin’ empties for change,

while you dream ‘bout going in style.

As you walk past the neighbors, the well heeled, lights gleaming

and you pray it won’t be long.

But for now, save your money, help your mama with the babies

and inside you’re singing your own song.

Hello young lady right here in New York City.  

You got your own place the neighbors do say.

And you’re payin’ your dues by flyin’ the big skies,

in a uniform TWA.

There’ll be many a wrong turn out here in the city

and it seems you can’t get back home.

But you’re not lookin’ back, your faith still in tact,

as you fly the big skies on your own.

Now you’re a wife, my little red headed girl,

with five children and each one your pearl.

You try and make sure, that they all have more

than you did when you were a girl.

On the streets of their hometown, your teenagers prowl,

smokin’ cigarettes all cocky and sure.

And you’re stayin’ up late hopin’ they won’t court fate 

and that trouble will surround them no more.

Now you’re a grandma my growin’ up girl.

Before your very eyes they grow up too.

Their pictures on the walls of the second floor hall,

next to the one of the child you knew;

all red hair and curls, just a wisp of a girl

arms out and eyes on the sky.

So long ago in that gabardine bow, twirlin’ round, 

as darkness grows nigh.