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i watched irish folk legend christy moore play this song its really easy; ] richard thompson beeswing verse : G i was 18 when i came to town they called it the summer of love G D C burning babies burning flags the hawks against the doves G i took A job at the steaming way down on caltrim st , G D C fell in love with A laundry girl that was workin next to me . G brown hair zig zagged across her face and A look of half surprise , G D C like A fox caught in the headlights there was animal in her eyes , G she said to me can’t you see i’m not the factory kind , G D C if you don’t take me out of here i’ll surely lose my mind chorus : Em G she was A rare thing fine as A bee’s wing Em D C so fine A breath of wind might blow her away Em G she was A lost child , she was runnin’ wild ( she said ) Em D C so long as theres no price on love i’ll stay Am D C you wouldn’t want me any other way . we busked around the market towns fruit pickin down in kent we could tinker pots and pans or knives wherever we went . we were campin down the gower one time , the work was mighty good . she wouldn’t wait for the harvest , i thought we should . i said to her we’ll settle down , get A few acres dug , A fire burning in the hearth and babbies 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 we were drinking more in those days our tempers reached A pitch like A fool i let her run away when she took the rambling itch . last i heard she was living rough back on the derby beat 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 like settlin’ down they say her rose has faded , rough weather and hard booze , maybe thats the price you pay for the chains that you refuse she was A rare thing , fine as A bee’s wing 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 . . . . .