She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe
I thought you'd never say hello she said you look like the silent type
Then she opened up a book of poems and handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet from the thirteenth century
And everyone of them words rang true and glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page like it was written in my soul
From me to you, tangled up in blue
Continuing my exploration of new-to-me bluegrass groups with another fine one, the Travelin McCoury's. If you're so inclined, here's an hour+ performance by them.