Richard Thompson - Beeswing

^FI was nineteen when I came to town ^FThey called it the Summer of Love ^FThey were burning babies, burning flags The ^CHawks against the ^BbDoves ^FI took a job in the Steamie ^FDown on Cauldrum Street ^FI fell in love with a laundry girl Was ^Cworking next to ^Bbme

^DmShe was a rare thing Fine as a ^Fbee's wing ^DmSo fine a breath of ^Cwind might blow her ^Bbaway ^DmShe was a lost child She was ^Frunning wild, she said ^DmAs long as there's no ^Cprice on love, I'll ^Bbstay ^GmAnd you wouldn't want me ^Cany other ^Bbway

^FBrown hair zig-zag round her face ^FAnd a look of half-surprise ^FLike a fox caught in the headlights There was ^Canimal in her ^Bbeyes ^FShe said, young man, O can't you see ^FI'm not the factory kind ^FIf you don't take me out of here I'll ^Csurely lose m^Bby mind

^DmShe was a rare thing Fine as a ^Fbee's wing ^DmSo fine that I might ^Ccrush her where she ^Bblay ^DmShe was a lost child She was ^Frunning wild, she said ^DmAs long as there's no ^Cprice on love, I'll ^Bbstay ^GmAnd you wouldn't want me ^Cany other ^Bbway

^FWe busked around the market towns ^FAnd picked fruit down in Kent ^FAnd we could tinker lamps and pots And ^Cknives wherever w^Bbe went ^FAnd I said that we might settle down ^FGet a few acres dug ^FFire burning in the hearth And ^Cbabies on the ^Bbrug ^FShe said O man, you foolish man ^FIt surely sounds like hell ^FYou might be lord of half the world You'll ^Cnot own me as ^Bbwell

^DmShe was a rare thing Fine as a ^Fbee's wing ^DmSo fine a breath of ^Cwind might blow her ^Bbaway ^DmShe was a lost child She was ^Frunning wild, she said ^DmAs long as there's no ^Cprice on love, I'll ^Bbstay ^GmAnd you wouldn't want me ^Cany other ^Bbway

^FWe was camping down the Gower one time ^FThe work was pretty good ^FShe thought we shouldn't wait for frost And ^CI thought maybe we ^Bbshould ^FWe were drinking more in those days ^FAnd tempers reached a pitch ^FLike a fool I let her run ^CWith a rambling ^Bbitch ^FLast I hear she's sleeping rough ^FBack on the Derby beat ^FWhite Horse in her hip pocket And a ^Cwolfhound at her ^Bbfeet ^FAnd they say she even marriend once ^FA man named Romany Brown ^FBut even a Gypsy caravan Was ^Ctoo much settling ^Bbdown ^FAnd they say her flower is faded now ^FHard weather and hard booze ^FBut maybe that's just the price you pay For the ^Cchains you ^Bbrefuse

^DmShe was a rare thing Fine as a ^Fbee's wing ^DmAnd I miss her more than ^Cever words could ^Bbsay ^DmIf I could just taste All of her ^Fwildness now ^DmIf I could hold her ^Cin my arms ^Bbtoday ^GmThen I wouldn't want her ^Cany other ^Bbway