Flat Iron Suite Lyrics

Listen to the Flat Iron Suite,
Like voices down an empty street.
Oars that dip into the sky.
Above the routes the owls fly.
To believe in superstition,
Doesn't make one less a Christian.
Three times we must repeat,
"Long live the hills of France..."

But who by chance was I to meet,
Was a soul that knew my heart complete.
She taught me an old folk dance,
And I taught her the Flat Iron Suite.
It's a long way from Sault St. Marie,
And the women that is dear to me.
We change? (chase?) our spirits with our wine,
And we row our boat in perfect time.

So gentlemen, another verse,
Before my voice gets any worse.
Before the wood gets any drier,
And catches on the creepin' fire.
Keep the embers burning bright.
Straight on through the longest night.
Three times we must repeat,
"Long live the hills of France..."
"Long live the hills of France..."
"Long may they live the hills of France..."