Who calls out my morning window?
Repeating repeating repeating repeating, who?
It’s not the owl with one “who” in the night,
But the Mourning Dove, stuck on its call
Hoo Hoo, Hoo Hoo, Hoo, Hoo Hoo.
Was it I who was stuck in mourning, mourning, mourning?
Why did my love die far far far from me, far away?
Why is their no fairness in my life, catch me a break.
Why do they think we didn’t love each other, why, why, why
How can they marginalize me and you, you, you, you?
The Mourning Dove is quiet now, now, now, now,
But my heart is still mourining, why, why, why, why.
This will pass, but when, when, when, when?
Come back Mourning dove, I am not done mourning.
Whoo, whoo, whoo, why, why, why, when, when, when.
– Small Town Boy