Christy Moore - Beeswing

I was 1^G8 when I came to town they called it the summer of love Burnin'^G babies burnin' flags the ha^Dwks against the d^Cove I took ^Ga job at the steaming way down on Caltrim Street Fell in^G love with a laundry girl that was ^Dworkin' next to^C me Brown h^Gair zig-zagged around her face and a look of half surprise Like a ^Gfox caught in the headlights there was a^Dnimal in her e^Cyes She sai^Gd to me can’t you see I’m not the factory kind If you ^Gdon’t take me out of here I’ll l^Dose my m^Cind

She was a ^Emrare thing fine as a b^Gee’s wing So f^Emine a breath of w^Dind might blow her a^Cway She was a ^Emlost child, she was ru^Gnnin’ wild (she said) So l^Emong as theres no p^Drice on love I’ll s^Ctay You ^Amwouldn’t want me a^Dny other w^Cay

We bu^Gsked around the market towns fruit pickin down in Kent We co^Guld tinker pots and pans or k^Dnives wherever we ^Cwent We we^Gre campin down the Gower, the work was mighty good She w^Gouldn’t wait for the harvest, I t^Dhought we s^Chould I sai^Gd to her we’ll settle down, get a few acres dug With ^Ga fire burning in the hearth and b^Dabbies on the ^Crug She s^Emaid Oh man you foolish man that su^Drely sounds like ^Ghell You might be l^Cord of ha^Glf the world, you’ll ^Dnot own me as ^Cwell

She was a ^Emrare thing fine as a b^Gee’s wing So f^Emine a breath of w^Dind might blow her a^Cway She was a ^Emlost child, she was ru^Gnnin’ wild (she said) So l^Emong as theres no p^Drice on love I’ll s^Ctay You ^Amwouldn’t want me a^Dny other w^Cay

We were ^Gdrinking more in those days our tempers reached a pitch Like a f^Gool I let her run away when she to^Dok the rambling i^Ctch Last I h^Geard she was living rough back on the Derby beat A bottle^G of White Horse in her pocket, a Wo^Dlfhound at her f^Ceet They say^G that she got married once to a man called Romany Brown Even a g^Gypsy caravan was too mu^Dch like settlin’ d^Cown They s^Emay her rose has faded, rough w^Deather and hard b^Gooze Maybe th^Cats the p^Grice you pay for the ch^Dains that you r^Cefuse

She was a r^Emare thing, fine as a be^Ge’s wing I mi^Emss her more than e^Dver words can ^Csay If I could j^Emust taste all of her w^Gildness now If ^EmI could hold her in ^Dmy arms toda^Cy I w^Amouldn’t want her a^Dny other w^Cay