A cloaking robe, elven kind, hangs in my wardrobe behind All those things that mother said were proper for a boy And I know I, I, I could not say why, why, why on this summer evening Oh, oh, oh Sixteen books on magic spells, stacked below the cloak of elves And sixteen books on magic spells, so elegantly bound And I know I, I, I could not say why, why, why on this summer evening Oh, oh, oh And I know something, something about you Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh And I know something, something about you Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh A cloaking robe, elven kind, hangs in my wardrobe behind All those things that mother said were proper for a boy
