In 1900, when the century was turning, two hearts were burning on the ground behind the well.
Come the cold December, with results of April's embers, a child came out screaming and was christened all about the well.
Eighteen years she waited, whoop-a-lop, and with breath faded, but no one she ever dated made her life again.
Then she called him in the schoolroom, long after the school bell, and everyone could tell it'd be call a bell and sing.
Oh, now they had a son out of love, and I was his daughter.
That lovin' streak just ran through me, and they showed me how it oughta be.
And they only taught me two things, the first was to answer to myself, to do it if I think in my head it's right, and it don't hurt nobody else.
And the second is if you love someone, go on, honey, let him know it, because the easiest thing about lovin' someone is to show it.
So, baby, in the year 2000, when the century is turnin', a child of mine will be findin', but neither does a bell.
And if I'm understandin', then this old mix'll be landin', with just two facts I'll hand him down from slimmin' all the bells.
And I'll only teach him two things, the first is to answer to myself, to do it if I think in my head it's right, and it don't hurt nobody else.

And the second is if you love someone, go on, honey, let him know it, because the easiest thing about lovin' someone is to show it.
So, baby, in the year 2000, when the century is turnin', I'll only teach him two things, the first is to answer to myself, to do it if I think in my head it's right, and it don't hurt nobody else.
Bye.