And as the moon rises he sits by his fire,
thinkin' about women and glasses of beer
and closing his eyes as the doggies retire.
He sings out a song wich is soft but it's clear.
As if maybe someone could hear.
Good night, you moonlight ladies,
rock by sweet baby Paul....,
deep greens and blues
are the colours I choóse
won't you let me get in to your hall
and rock by sweet baby Paul.