The Lord gathered up all my kingdom
In a fold of a red gingham skirt
And asked me if I'd leave it for Love,
And I said,"I'm a born flirt."

The Lord gathered up all my riches
In the eye of a needle bound south
Through a wealthy man's soft leather breeches,
Stitching them up, in and out.

And all of my fame was as gold dust
That the Lord blew from his right hand.
It fell from the night sky in starlight,
And settled upon the cool sand.

And all of this weighed in the balance
Against what true love I knew,
And scattered as nightmares at daylight,
When I said I'd leave all of that, too,

For one taste
Of True Love.

-jenn