Christy Moore: Beeswing
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Christy Moore: Beeswing
I was 18 when I came to town
They called it the summer of love
Burning babies, burning flags
The hawks against the doves
I took a job at the steaming way
Down on Caltrim St
Fell in love with a laundry girl
That was workin' next to me
Brown hair zig zagged across her face
And a look of half surprise
Like a fox caught in the headlights
There was animal in her eyes
She said to me
"Can't you see I'm not the factory kind?
If you don't take me out of here
I'll surely lose my mind"
She was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine, a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, she was runnin' wild
(She said)
"So long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
You wouldn't want me any other way"
We busked around the market towns
Fruit pickin' down in Kent
We could tinker pots and pans
Or knives, wherever we went
We were campin' down the Gower one time
The work was mighty good
She wouldn't wait for the harvest
I thought we should
I said to her we'll settle down
Get a few acres dug
A fire burning in the hearth
And babies on the rug
She said, "Oh man, you foolish man
That 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 bee's wing
So fine, a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, she was runnin' wild
(She said)
"So long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
You wouldn't want me any other way"
We were drinking more in those days
Our tempers reached a pitch
Like a fool I let her run away
When she took the rambling itch
Last I heard she was living rough
Back on the Derby beat
A bottle of White Horse in her pocket
A Wolfhound at her feet
They say that she got married once
To a man called Romany Brown
Even a gypsy caravan
Was too much like settlin' down
They say her rose has faded
Rough weather and hard booze
Maybe that's the price you pay
For the chains that you refuse
She was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
I miss her more than ever, words can say
If I could just taste all of her wildness now
If I could hold her in my arms today
I wouldn't want her any other way
They called it the summer of love
Burning babies, burning flags
The hawks against the doves
I took a job at the steaming way
Down on Caltrim St
Fell in love with a laundry girl
That was workin' next to me
Brown hair zig zagged across her face
And a look of half surprise
Like a fox caught in the headlights
There was animal in her eyes
She said to me
"Can't you see I'm not the factory kind?
If you don't take me out of here
I'll surely lose my mind"
She was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine, a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, she was runnin' wild
(She said)
"So long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
You wouldn't want me any other way"
We busked around the market towns
Fruit pickin' down in Kent
We could tinker pots and pans
Or knives, wherever we went
We were campin' down the Gower one time
The work was mighty good
She wouldn't wait for the harvest
I thought we should
I said to her we'll settle down
Get a few acres dug
A fire burning in the hearth
And babies on the rug
She said, "Oh man, you foolish man
That 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 bee's wing
So fine, a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, she was runnin' wild
(She said)
"So long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
You wouldn't want me any other way"
We were drinking more in those days
Our tempers reached a pitch
Like a fool I let her run away
When she took the rambling itch
Last I heard she was living rough
Back on the Derby beat
A bottle of White Horse in her pocket
A Wolfhound at her feet
They say that she got married once
To a man called Romany Brown
Even a gypsy caravan
Was too much like settlin' down
They say her rose has faded
Rough weather and hard booze
Maybe that's the price you pay
For the chains that you refuse
She was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
I miss her more than ever, words can say
If I could just taste all of her wildness now
If I could hold her in my arms today
I wouldn't want her any other way
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Christy Moore: Beeswing
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