Twenty pine mountains fall on a cold Kentucky night,
Cold moon is drifting through a black Kentucky night,
Your eyes are drifting like a heart set loose at sea,
Raft to Indiana that is drifting through to me.
Did you ever, did you ever think of me as your poleman?
Did you ever, did you ever think of me as your poleman?
You danced like wildfire in a melancholy wind,
A piece of river that was shaking in the wind,
A lonely orphan dreaming of his family,
Three-headed brother, do you ever dream of me?
Do you ever, do you ever think of me as your poleman?
DO you ever, do you ever think of me as your poleman?
Which is the one, the one that you prefer-
The soft touch of sheets, man, or the gentle feel of words?
The soft sound of singing, or the gentle feel of legs?
A past filled with stories, or a future stocked with days?
And did you ever, did you ever think of me as your poleman?
And did you ever, did you ever think of me as your poleman?
If you could reach your eyes like arms stretched out to me,
Kentucky friend, is Indiana what you see?
Do ghosts set sail across that river out to me?
Is the soft, the feeling of your sheets a mystery?
And do you ever, do you ever think of me as your poleman?
Do you ever, do you ever think of me as your poleman?