Green Lyrics & Music: Maureen S. O'Brien, 12/9/01 Now it's your turn to sing, but I cannot be glad, And it's not because your songs are boring or bad. It's the sweet clever craft in them tears me apart, Eaten up by my envy and sick at my heart. CH: Green are my eyes, for it's well they have seen That the grass on your side of the fence grows more green. Oh, how gladly I'd give such poor skills as are mine For the twist of your thought and the tweak in your line! And I look at my song; it seems such a poor thing That I scarcely can bear to lift my voice to sing. I would gather my songbooks, make ready to leave -- But you ask me to sing? It is hard to believe. CH: Green are my eyes, for it's well they have seen That the grass on your side of the fence grows more green. Oh, how gladly I'd give such poor skills as are mine For the twist of your thought and the tweak in your line! You come up to me after, eyes troubled with blue, And you say, "How I wish I could write like you do! Ev'ry turn of your phrase, ev'ry image you find -- They're so easy for you, so estranged from my mind." CH2: And the green leaves my eyes, for it's now I have seen That the grass grows in ten thousand shadings of green. We each have separate yards, but you're welcome in mine, And some days I'll gaze over across your fenceline.