It was in the Golden Gate meadow, my love and I did meet.

She rode her bike from Nob Hill down California Street.

She wanted we should marry, and live here happily.

And move to Sausalito and look out at the sea.

We walked through the Shakespeare Garden and stopped at the hot dog stand

And she had one with mustard and I held her snow-white hand

She bid me take love easy and live in harmony

But I was from Minnesota and full of uncertainty.

Down by the Japanese tea house, my love and I did part.

She got on her bike and rode off and thus she broke my heart.

I come to San Francisco, and always think of her

And of that January and how in love we were.

Now in the Golden Gate I come and meditate

On the beauty whom I love now twenty-seven years too late

But I was young and foolish and longing to be free

And I pray that she is happy and sometimes thinks of me.