The Lynchburg Cherry

 
Lynchburg Cherry wasn’t her real name,
But everybody called her that anyway.
Not because she was easy or because she was free,
But because she always smelled like a cherry tree.

She wasn’t innocent, not in any sense of the word,
But when she whispered your name, you always heard.
Her lips were warm, her eyes were bright,
Her hair dyed black as night.

Her skin was pale but her cheeks were cherry red,
And you never knew if she was really hearing voices in her head,
But you didn’t care, because she was the Lynchburg Cherry.
She was an honest to God southern girl,
And she would make your head whirl,
And she could make you cry for more,
And go out in the night knockin’ on strange doors,
Getting’ her a fix, if she was in the mood.

She was the Lynchburg Cherry,
And her life was never lived in a hurry.
She sang Peace In the Valley,
And would go down on you in an alley,
And still be a lady in the light of day.

She was the Lynchburg Cherry,
And no one could take that away.
No, no one could take that away.

She was the Lynchburg Cherry,
And if you’re ever in Little Ferry,
You won’t find her any more.
She moved on a whim,
And ran away from him.

He was the reason her world came crashing down,
He treated her badly and acted like a clown,
And she loved him once, but that was long ago.
He doesn’t know where to find her,
He wouldn’t even know where to begin to look,
Because she wouldn’t let her heart be took.
He wanted to own her, but she was free,
Like the smell of the sweet cherry tree.

She was the Lynchburg Cherry,
And he don’t know what he lost,
Because he couldn’t see beyond himself.
He lost his Lynchburg Cherry,
And he’d better start to worry,
Because she might come back one day.
He’ll know then what he never should’ve let slip away.

The Lynchburg Cherry is a spirit living free,
And she’s as sweet as the fruit of a cherry tree.
Yes, she’s as sweet as the fruit of a cherry tree.
 

-- R. A. Melos
copyright 2005

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