they've been going at it all night long
i'm trying to get some sleep
but these motel walls are cheap
lincoln duncan is my name
my father was a fisherman
my mama was the fisherman's friend
and i was born in the boredom
so when i reached my prime
i left my home in the maritimes
headed down the turnpike for
holes in the knees of my jeans
i was left without a penny in my pocket
oo-we i was about destituted
and i wished i wore a ring
a young girl in a parking lot
singing sacred songs and reading
and she told me all about the pentecost
and i seen that girl as the road
just later on the very same night
she crept to my tent with a flashlight
and my long years of innocence ended
saying here comes something and it feels so good
and just like a dog i was befriended
oh what a garden of delight
even now that sweet memory lingers
lying underneath the stars