Refuze Bees Wing

“I was nineteen when I came to town
They called in the Summer of Love
They were burningbabies, burning flags
The Hawks against the DovesI took a job in the STeamie
Down on Cauldrum Street
I fell in love with a laundry girl
Was working next to meShe was a rare thing
Fine as a beeswing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child
She was running wild, she said
As long as there’s no price on love, I’ll stay
And you wouldn’t want me any other wayBrown hair zig-zag round her face
And a look of half-surprise
Like a fox caught in the headlights
There was an animal in her eyesShe said, young man, O can’t you see
I’m not the factory kind
If you don’t take me out of here
I’ll surely lose my miindShe was a rare thing
Fine as a beeswing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child
She was running wild, she said
As long as there’s no price on love, I’ll stay
And you wouldn’t want me any other wayWe busked around the market towns
And picked fruit down in Kent
And we could tinker lamps and pots
And knives wherever we wentAnd I said that we might settle down
Get a few acres dug
Fire burning in the hearth
And babies on the rugShe said O man, you foolish man
It surely sounds like hell
You might be lord of half the world
You’ll not own me as wellShe was a rare thing
Fine as a beeswing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child
She was running wild, she said
As long as there’s no price on love, I’ll stay
And you wouldn’t want me any other wayWe was camping down the Gower one time
The work was pretty good
She thought we shouldn’t wait for frost
And I thought maybe we shouldWe were drinking more in those days
And tempers reached a pitch
Like a fool I let her run
With the rambling itchLast I hear she’s sleeping out
Back on Derby beat
White Horse in her hip pocket
And a wolfhound at her feetAnd they say she even marriend once
A man named Romany Brown
But even a Gypsy caravan
Was too much settliing downAnd they say her flower is faded now
Hard weather and hard booze
But maybe that’s just the price you pay
For the chains you refuseShe was a rare thing
Fine as a beeswing
And I missher more than ever words could say
If I could just taste
All of her wildness now
If I could hold her in my arms today
Then I wouldn’t want her any other way”

  • Richard Thompson performed this at Philadelphia Folk Festival. I don’t remember what year.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *