Beeswing-Richard Thompson

I was nineteen when I came to town They called in the Summer of Love They were burningbabies, burning flags The Hawks against the Doves I took a job in the STeamie Down on Cauldrum Street I fell in love with a laundry girl Was working next to me She was a rare thing Fine as a beeswing So fine a breath of wind might blow her away She was a lost child She was running wild, she said As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay And you wouldn't want me any other way Brown hair zig-zag round her face And a look of half-surprise Like a fox caught in the headlights There was an animal in her eyes She said, young man, O can't you see I'm not the factory kind If you don't take me out of here I'll surely lose my miind She was a rare thing Fine as a beeswing So fine a breath of wind might blow her away She was a lost child She was running wild, she said As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay And you wouldn't want me any other way We busked around the market towns And picked fruit down in Kent And we could tinker lamps and pots And knives wherever we went And I said that we might settle down Get a few acres dug Fire burning in the hearth And babies on the rug She said O man, you foolish man It surely sounds like hell You might be lord of half the world You'll not own me as well She was a rare thing Fine as a beeswing So fine a breath of wind might blow her away She was a lost child She was running wild, she said As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay And you wouldn't want me any other way We was camping down the Gower one time The work was pretty good She thought we shouldn't wait for frost And I thought maybe we should We were drinking more in those days And tempers reached a pitch Like a fool I let her run With the rambling itch Last I hear she's sleeping out Back on Derby beat White Horse in her hip pocket And a wolfhound at her feet And they say she even marriend once A man named Romany Brown But even a Gypsy caravan Was too much settliing down And they say her flower is faded now Hard weather and hard booze But maybe that's just hte price you pay For the chains you refuse She was a rare thing Fine as a beeswing And I missher more than ever words could say If I could just taste All of her wildness now If I could hold her in my arms today Then I wouldn't want her any other way