I was nineteen when I came to town

　　They called in the Summer of Love

　　They were burningbabies burning flags

　　The Hawks against the Doves

　　I took a job in the STeamie

　　Down on Cauldrum Street

　　I fell in love with a laundry girl

　　Was working next to me

　　She 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 way

　　Brown 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 eyes

　　She 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 miind

　　She 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 way

　　We busked around the market towns

　　And picked fruit down in Kent

　　And we could tinker lamps and pots

　　And knives wherever we went

　　And I said that we might settle down

　　Get a few acres dug

　　Fire burning in the hearth

　　And babies on the rug

　　She 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 well

　　She 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 way

　　We 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 should

　　We were drinking more in those days

　　And tempers reached a pitch

　　Like a fool I let her run

　　With the rambling itch

　　Last I hear she's sleeping out

　　Back on Derby beat

　　White Horse in her hip pocket

　　And a wolfhound at her feet

　　And they say she even marriend once

　　A man named Romany Brown

　　But even a Gypsy caravan

　　Was too much settliing down

　　And they say her flower is faded now

　　Hard weather and hard booze

　　But maybe that's just hte price you pay

　　For the chains you refuse

　　She 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