[Verse]
I was eighteen when I came to town they called it the Summer of Love,
Burning babies, burning flags, the hawks against the dove,
I took a job at the steaming way down on Caltrim Street,
And they fell in love with a laundry girl, that was working next to me.

Brown hair, zigzagged all round face, a look of half surprise,
Like a fox caught in the headlights, there was animal in her eyes,
She said to me, "Can't you see I'm not the factory kind,
If you don't take me out of here, I'll lose me mind."

[Chorus]
She was a rare thing, as 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, "So long as there's no price on love, I'll stay",
You wouldn't want her any other way.

[Verse]
We busked around the market towns, fruit picking down in Kent,
We could tinker pots and pans or knives wherever we went,
We were camping down the Gower, but the work was mighty good,
But she wouldn't wait for the harvest and I thought we should.

I told to her, "We'll settle down and get a few acres dug,
With a fire burning in the hearth and babies on the rug",
She said, "Oh man, you foolish man, that surely sounds like hell,
You might be Lord of half the world, you'll not own me as well."

[Chorus]
She was a rare thing, as 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, "So long as there's no price on love, I'll stay",
I wouldn't want her any other way.

[Verse]
We were drinking more in those days, the tempers reached a pitch,
Like a fool, I let her run away when she took the rambling itch,
Well last I heard, she's living rough way back on the Derby beat,
With a bottle of white horse in her pocket, a wolfhound at her feet.

They say that she got married once to a man called Romany Brown,
Even a gypsy caravan was too much to settling down,
They say, "Her rose has faded, rough weather and hard booze",
Well maybe that's the price you pay for the chains that you refuse.

[Chorus]
She was a rare thing, as 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, "So long as there's no price on love, I'll stay"

[Outro]
She was a rare thing, as fine as a beeswing,
And I miss her more than ever words can say,
If I could just taste all of her wildness now,
If I could hold her in my arms today,
I wouldn't want her any other way.