歌詞

Ribbons of the softest dough

Are waiting to be weaved

I lay the strips across the top

One over, one below

A little woven garden gate

Above the fruit and gold

My tongue between my teeth, I work

The way that children do

Over, under, weave it slow

A roof of tender lanes

Unless the Lord builds up the house

The builder works in vain

The lamb stands up with hooves on chair

To supervise the art

It nods at every crossing strip

As if it knows the chart

A brush of milk, a snow of sugar

Sparkling on the weave

Over, under, weave it slow

A roof of tender lanes

Unless the Lord builds up the house

The builder works in vain

So let Him build the bigger things

While I weave flour lace

For both the pie and I are held

Together by His grace

Mmm... mmm... mmm

Over, under, weave it slow

A roof of tender lanes

Unless the Lord builds up the house

The builder works in vain

Over, under, weave it slow

A roof of tender lanes

Unless the Lord builds up the house

The builder works in vain

Ribbons of the softest dough

Have made a little roof