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Down on the Riverbed Lyrics
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
I asked my lover for her hand
A red tailed hawk circled overhead
A red tailed hawk circled overhead
A red tailed hawk circled overhead
The church on the hill, was what she said
A monster cloud like a big black hand
A monster cloud like a big black hand
A monster cloud like a big black hand
As she drew houses in the sand
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
I asked my lover for her hand
I asked my lover for her hand
Then I heard a train whistle blow
Then I heard a train whistle blow
Then I heard a train whistle blow
And I knew it was time to go
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
I asked my lover for her hand
I asked my lover for her hand
I asked my lover for her hand
I asked my lover for her hand
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
I asked my lover for her hand
A red tailed hawk circled overhead
A red tailed hawk circled overhead
A red tailed hawk circled overhead
The church on the hill, was what she said
A monster cloud like a big black hand
A monster cloud like a big black hand
A monster cloud like a big black hand
As she drew houses in the sand
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
I asked my lover for her hand
I asked my lover for her hand
Then I heard a train whistle blow
Then I heard a train whistle blow
Then I heard a train whistle blow
And I knew it was time to go
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
Down on the riverbed
I asked my lover for her hand
I asked my lover for her hand
I asked my lover for her hand
I asked my lover for her hand
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I've loved this since I first heard it back in the day. This song manages to create a mood and tell a story with only 8 distinct lines. But the minimal lyrics also leave plenty of room for interpretation. Given the ominous musical arrangement, one could take it to be foreshadowing disaster, but I think it's about the anxiety that comes from hoping for happiness in a harsh world. Forgive me for reducing the beautiful poetry to clumsy prose.
Down on the riverbed I asked my lover for her hand
A red tailed hawk circled overhead The church on the hill, was what she said
A monster cloud like a big black hand ("hand", not "hen") As she drew houses in the sand
Then I heard a train whistle blow And I knew it was time to go
[Edit: Additional thoughts]