Besedila: Joan Baez. Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands.

With your mercury mouth in the missionary times
Your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
And your silver cross and your voice like chimes
Who do they think could bury you?

With your pockets well protected at last
And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass
And your flesh like silk and your face like glass
Who could they get to ever carry you?

Sad eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad eyed prophet say that, "No man comes"
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate?
Or sad eyed lady, should I wait?

With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace
And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace
And your basement clothes and your hollow face
Who among them to think he could outguess you?

With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Into your eyes where the moonlight swims
And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns
Who among them would try to impress you?

Sad eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad eyed prophet say that, "No man comes"
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate?
Or sad eyed lady, should I wait?

The kings of Tyrus with their convict list
Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss
And you wouldn't know, it would happen like this
But who among them really wants just to kiss you

With your childhood flames on your midnight rug
And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs
Who among them do you think could resist you?

Sad eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad eyed prophet say that, "No man comes"
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate?
Or sad eyed lady, should I wait?

he farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
To show you the dead angels that they used to hide
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?
How could they ever mistake you?

They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm
But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm
And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms
How could they ever, ever persuade you?

Sad eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad eyed prophet say that, "No man comes"
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate?
Or sad eyed lady, should I wait?

With your sheet metal memory of Cannery Row
And your magazine husband who one day just had to go
And your gentleness now which you just can't help but show
Who among them do you think would employ you?

Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
With your holy medallion in your fingers now that rolls
And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul
Who among them could ever think he could destroy you?

Sad eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad eyed prophet say that, "No man comes"
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate?
Or sad eyed lady, should I wait?