Mother's Maple Flute

Mother's maple flute
She plays it just for you, my baby
Mother's maple flute
Crafted from the roots of trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees

She'll pick her teeth with the bones of bears
And brittle needles from prickly pears
She's got a thirst for freedom
She carves her instruments from cedarwood
The scent drives ants away
But they'll be back another day

Mother's maple flute
She plays it just for you, my baby
Mother's maple flute
Crafted from the roots of trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees

She's led an expedition
To teach the menfolk how to listen - really listen
Do you want to be the next one
Piping notes coated in dextrose
Lost in the song
Ants in a honeycomb

Mother's maple flute
She plays it just for you, my baby
Mother's maple flute
Crafted from the roots of trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees

Mother's maple flute
She plays it just for you, my baby
Mother's maple flute
Crafted from the roots of trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees
Trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees



Credits
Writer(s): Andrew Preston
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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