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Beeswing, organized

This is to blame.

She was:

  • Working next to me
  • A rare thing
  • Fine as:
    • a bee’s wing
    • so fine a breath of air might blow her away
  • A lost child
  • Running wild
  • Sleeping rough back on the Derby beat
  • Even married once, to a man named Romany Brown

I was:

  • Nineteen when I came to town
  • In love with a laundry girl

We:

  • Busked around the market square
  • Picked fruit down in Kent
  • Could tinker lamps and pots and knives wherever we went
  • Was camping down the Gower
  • Was drinking more in those days

They were:

  • Burning babies
  • Burning flags
  • Calling it the Summer of Love
  • Hawks and doves

She said:

  • “As long as there’s no price on love I’ll stay”
  • “You wouldn’t want me any other way”
  • “Young man, oh 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”
  • “Oh man, you foolish man, it surely sounds like hell”
  • “You might be lord of half the world, you’ll not own me as well”

I said:

  • “We might settle down, get a few acres dug”
  • “Fire burning in the hearth and babies on the rug”

If I could:

  • Just taste all of her wildness now
  • Hold her in my arms today

I wouldn’t:

  • Want her any other way

2 Comments

  1. Now, why would you go and do something like that to a perfectly good Richard Thompson song?

  2. Well, none of the bad Richard Thompson songs would stay still long enough.

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