The summer when I was ten, me and my best friend Cass
Strung up an old hammock just to watch the clouds roll past
Loafing over fresh cut clover, chewing blades of grass
And I’d say
I bet this tastes just like dandelion wine
I bet this tastes just like dandelion wine
Then I’d follow her to the fruit cellar beneath her basement stair
We’d share the cool with her father’s tools and her mother’s canning wares
Breathe the scent of peaches and machine oil in the air
And she’d say
I bet this smells just like dandelion wine
I bet this smells just like dandelion wine
There was more to it we would suppose
Like pedals from my mother’s roses
Water from the garden hose
Cool and glistening
Dandelions and the scents
Of crab apples and canvas tents
But there was one ingredient
We were missing
One day me and Cassie May said our last goodbye
Their moving van sat gassed and packed beneath an empty sky
I kissed her on the cheek just as a tear leaked from her eye
And I thought
I bet that tastes just like dandelion wine
I bet that tastes just like dandelion wine
Cara Beth Satalino's delicately melodic yet resilient indie folk songs sparkle with lyrical wit and hard-won wisdom. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 10, 2024
West Virginia country-folk singer-songwriter Trae Sheehan aims to find a balance between the traditional and the modern on his new LP. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 29, 2020