She carries the water from the well in the morning
  while the sand burns her feet the sun only stares
  and the loneliness lingers with slow grasping fingers
  as the afternoon withers the flowers in her hair
  
  Then night fills the sky as she sits on the hillside
  and memories drift by like clouds past the stars
  recalling romances and all the bright chances
  but none of them lasted. they passed through her heart
  
  And she says -
  where is a man who can build a good fire
  with a passion as wide as the sky at high noon
  a man whose hand is strong as his longing
  where is the man who can lasso the moon
  
  She falls asleep and her dreams are her blanket
  and she shares with the moon the secret she knows
  as the dawn leaves its tears to wash the dry valley
  the tears of a woman can wash a man's soul
  
  And she says -
  where is a man who can build a good fire
  with a passion as wide as the sky at high noon
  a man whose hand is strong as his longing
  where is the man who can lasso the moon
  
  And she says -
  where is a man who can build a good fire
  with a passion as wide as the sky at high noon
  a man whose hand is strong as his longing
  where is the man who can lasso the moon
  
  and I say -
  I am a man who can build a good fire
  and my passion's as wide as the sky at high noon
  come take my hand, it's as strong as your longing
  just say the word and I'll lasso the moon