Beeswing - Christy Moore
C
I was eighteen when I came to town they called it the summer of love
C G F
Burnin' babies burnin' flags the hawks against the dove
C
I took a job at the steaming way down on Caltrim Street
C G F
Fell in love with a laundry girl that was workin' next to me
C
Brown hair zig-zagged around her face and a look of half surprise
C G F
Like a fox caught in the headlights there was animal in her eyes
C
She said to me can’t you see I’m not the factory kind
C G F
and if you don’t take me out of here I’ll lose my mind
[Chorus]
Am C
She was a rare thing fine as a bee’s wing
Am G F
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
Am C
She was a lost child, she was runnin’ wild (she said)
Am G F
So long as theres no price on love I’ll stay
Dm G F
You wouldn’t want me any other way
[Verse 2]
C
We busked around the market towns, fruit pickin down in Kent
C G F
We could tinker pots and pans or knives wherever we went
C
We were campin down the Gower one time, the work was mighty good
C G F
She wouldn’t wait for the harvest, I thought we should
C
I said to her we’ll settle down, get a few acres dug
C G F
With a fire burning in the hearth and babbies on the rug
Am G C
She said Oh man you foolish man that surely sounds like hell
F C G F
You might be lord of half the world, you’ll not own me as well
[Chorus]
Am C
She was a rare thing fine as a bee’s wing
Am G F
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
Am C
She was a lost child, she was runnin’ wild (she said)
Am G F
So long as theres no price on love I’ll stay
Dm G F
You wouldn’t want me any other way
[Verse 3]
C
We were drinking more in those days, our tempers reached a pitch
C G F
Like a fool I let her run away when she took the rambling itch
C
And the last I heard she was living rough, back on the Derby beat
C G F
With a bottle of White Horse in her pocket, a Wolfhound at her feet
C
And they say that she got married once to a man called Romany Brown
C G F
Even a gypsy caravan was too much like settlin’ down
Am G C
They say her rose has faded, rough weather and hard booze
F C G F
Maybe thats the price you pay for the chains that you refuse
[Chorus]
Am C
She was a rare thing fine as a bee’s wing
Am G F
and I miss her more than ever words can say
Am C
If I could just taste all her, wildness now
Am G F
If I could hold her in my arms today
Dm G F
I wouldn’t want her any other way
Dm G F
oh I wouldn’t want her any other way......
Beeswing [C]Christy Moore
CI was eighteen when I came to town they called it the summer of love Burnin'C babies burnin' flags the Ghawks against the Fdove I took Ca job at the steaming way down on Caltrim Street Fell in Clove with a laundry girl that was Gworkin' next to Fme Brown Chair zig-zagged around her face and a look of half surprise Like a Cfox caught in the headlights there was Ganimal in her Feyes She Csaid to me can’t you see I’m not the factory kind and if you Cdon’t take me out of here I’ll Glose my Fmind
Chorus She was a Amrare thing fine as a Cbee’s wing So Amfine a breath of Gwind might blow her Faway She was a Amlost child, she was Crunnin’ wild she said So Amlong as theres no Gprice on love I’ll Fstay You Dmwouldn’t want me Gany other Fway
Verse 2 We Cbusked around the market towns, fruit pickin down in Kent We Ccould tinker pots and pans or Gknives wherever Fwe went We were Ccampin down the Gower one time, the work was mighty good She Cwouldn’t wait for the harvest, I Gthought we Fshould I Csaid to her we’ll settle down, get a few acres dug With a Cfire burning in the hearth and Gbabbies on the Frug She Amsaid Oh man you foolish man that Gsurely sounds like Chell You might be Flord of Chalf the world, you’llG not own me as Fwell
Chorus She was a Amrare thing fine as a Cbee’s wing So Amfine a breath of Gwind might blow her Faway She was a Amlost child, she was Crunnin’ wild she said So Amlong as theres no Gprice on love I’ll Fstay You Dmwouldn’t want me Gany other Fway
Verse 3 We were Cdrinking more in those days, our tempers reached a pitch Like a Cfool I let her run away when she Gtook the rambling Fitch And the Clast I heard she was living rough, back on the Derby beat With a Cbottle of White Horse in her pocket, Ga Wolfhound at her Ffeet And they Csay that she got married once to a man called Romany Brown Even a Cgypsy caravan was too Gmuch like settlin’ Fdown They Amsay her rose has faded, rough Gweather and hard Cbooze Maybe Fthats the Cprice you pay for the Gchains that you Frefuse
Chorus She was a Amrare thing fine as a Cbee’s wing and I Ammiss her more than Gever words can Fsay If I could Amjust taste all her, Cwildness now If I Amcould hold her Gin my arms Ftoday I Dmwouldn’t want her Gany other Fway