Sometimes when the evening's young The wind dies down the setting sun Crochets the clouds with yarn so fine And fills the oceans with red wine I see the sky, the forest fair Bringing flavor to the air I raised my glass and in a while You answer with a secret smile Hold on Hold on Hold on to me An airborne leaf that landed near Has carried Dionysus here I slip away but only when He sees our glasses filled again Sometimes when the evening's young The wind dies down the setting sun Crochets the clouds with yarn so fine And fills the oceans with red wine Hold on Hold on Hold on to me Hold on Hold on Hold on to me