Saturday Night

Saturday Night

It's a Saturday night in Slippery Rock
and wet heavy snow's coming down.
I tune in to Public Radio,
and soon hear that familiar sound,
"It's Saturday and the band is playin',
Honey, could we ask for more?"

I'm thirty-two and you are just four,
and as a waltz begins,
I scoop you up into my arms,
and we begin to spin.

That Saturday night in Slippery Rock
was the sweetest I've ever known.
And I am now at mid-life,
you are married and grown.

But I still tune in on Satuday
to hear that familiar score,
and in my heart and memory,
we still waltz across the floor.

"It's Saturday and the band is playin',
Honey, could we ask for more?"