I was 18 when I came to town they called it the Summer of Love
Burning babies, burning flags, the hawks against the dove
I took a job at the Steaming way down on Caltrim Street
And they fell in love with a laundry girl, that was working next to me
Brown hair, zigzagged all round face, 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?"
And if you don't take me out of here, I'll lose me mind
She was a rare thing, fine as a beeswing
So fine, a breath of wind might blow her away
And she was a lost child, she was running 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 picking down in Kent
We could tinker pots and pans or knives wherever we went
We were campin' down the Gower, but the work was mighty good
She wouldn't wait for the harvest and I thought we should
I said to her, "We'll settle down and get a few acres dug"
With a fire burning in the heart 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"
But she was a rare thing, fine as a beeswing
So fine, a breath of wind might blow her away
And she was a lost child, she was running 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
And the last I heard, she is living rough back on the Derby beach
With 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 to settling 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
Oh, she was a rare thing, fine as a beeswing
And 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
(She was a rare thing, fine as a beeswing)
(And 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