I love this pretty song by Robinella and the CC Stringband. Of course, it drives me crazy that she spelled it mornin’, when the name of the bird is mourning dove. I’ve never been sure if she’s making a common mistake, as she does sing about the sadness of love’s brevity and the obvious mourning part to it.
After reviewing the way she’s printed the lyrics on her liners, I’ve decided it’s all deliberate, with the bridge:
Sing my little mornin’ dove
Tell him that he is my love
You see we don’t have that long
So tell him with your sweet sad song
Soon it will be mournin’
Mornin’ dove
I wish I could send you to a place you could hear the whole song, but I can’t find one. However, there is a clip on this NPR page where you can hear her singing (cooing) the mourning dove’s part, which is what makes me love this song so much. She really does sound like a dove.
(The beginning of the Scott Simon interview discusses this song. Worth a listen.)
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3 comments:
This is a horny time of year for all birds, of course, but mourning doves are the only ones that fornicate regularly on my deck railing in threesomes. I'm not sure if the third is a coach or just a pervert, but he (or she) is always there, cooing encouragement.
I thought she meant Mornin', Dove. And then, of course, 'Night, Dove.
MM: No doubt your deck railing is known as one of those kind of bars.
Susan: Yeah, I get that.
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