I remember Mary's Fancy With painted rugs on veranda doors And Kit who cooks surprises in foods From the Grenadines and Guadeloupe And the old man sang as he measured the rum And sang in the street band, walking by on the road Then at night and sometimes afternoons My visitor would slip through curtain doors She was far too young The moon turned gold to bronze As the afternoons slipped down into the sea Oh I remember Mary's Fancy Walking along in sun-dried clothes From the beach to the town, to the top of the hill Wherever we went led back to our room And the sails we watched from our shadowy bed With flags of ships waiting out in the bay She was far too young When the easy rain Held us prisoner for the night And what we did in the place was everything And beauty shed her grace on thee Mary's Fancy stands there still An empty shell on a dried out hill But once together we laughed and wept Now the memory of my love is kept Where ships sail in to sail away In a sense she'll return like another day And love that made it Mary's Fancy Love that made it Mary's Fancy - gone.