It was late in the evenin'
Just a few of us pickin',
But the lady she played
So easy and fine.
And the chords that she strummed
Were so tastefully clever,
They planted this song in my mind.
Cause there's somethin' so feminine,
About a mandolin,
The way that they feel,
The way that they ring.
Just to see slender fingers,
Movin' so fluid,
Made this poor heart to sing.
And when I get older and I have a daughter,
I'll teach her to sing, and play her my song
And I'll tell her some stories I can barely remember
And hope that she will sing along.
Maybe one day she'll take a fancy to pickin',
'Cause when that bug bites you,
You live with the string.
And if she could just strum a few simple measures
She could make some young man sing.
Cause there's somethin' so feminine
About a mandolin.
The way that they feel, the way that they ring.
And that evening in a pasture,
Somewhere near Austin.
That mandolin made me sing,
Her mandolin made me sing.
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