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lemonade kid
Old Love
USA
9875 Posts |
 Posted - 30/04/2014 : 23:24:00
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To put it plainly, Richard Thompson is the gap in your record collectionÑthe guitar god you could have been writing graffiti for, and the singer/songwriter you should have been emulating in your dorm room.
Ñ Metro Pulse
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The CBC arts page has a Valentine Day tribute to the love song, ÒUnchained melodies : Our favourite love songs Ñ and what they say about us" and this performance on YouTube is included in the list.
Beeswing, Richard Thompson. Veteran British folk-rocker Thompson, a titan among songwriters, has made the bittersweet pangs of lost love his specialty. HeÕs at his creative peak in this achingly vivid tale of two hippie gypsies whose relationship is doomed by the old freedom-versus-commitment tug-of-war.
I was nineteen when I came to town, they called it the Summer of Love
They were burning babies, burning flags. The hawks against the doves
I took a job in the steamie down on Cauldrum Street
And I fell in love with a laundry girl who was working next to me
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a beeÕs wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said ÒAs long as thereÕs no price on love, IÕll stay.
And you wouldnÕt want me any other wayÓ
Brown hair zig-zag around her face and a look of half-surprise
Like a fox caught in the headlights, there was animal in her eyes
She said ÒYoung man, oh canÕt you see IÕm not the factory kind
If you donÕt take me out of here IÕll surely lose my mindÓ
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a beeÕs wing
So fine that I might crush her where she lay
She was a lost child, she was running wild
She said ÒAs long as thereÕs no price on love, IÕll stay.
And you wouldnÕt want me any other wayÓ
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 ÒOh man, you foolish man, it surely sounds like hell.
You might be lord of half the world, youÕll not own me as wellÓ
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a beeÕs wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said ÒAs long as thereÕs no price on love, IÕll stay.
And you wouldnÕt want me any other wayÓ
We was camping down the Gower one time, the work was pretty good
She thought we shouldnÕt wait for the frost and I thought maybe we should
We was drinking more in those days and tempers reached a pitch
And like a fool I let her run with the rambling itch
Oh the last I heard sheÕs sleeping rough back on the Derby beat
White Horse in her hip pocket and a wolfhound at her feet
And they say she even married once, a man named Romany Brown
But even a gypsy caravan was too much settling down
And they say her flower is faded now, hard weather and hard booze
But maybe thatÕs just the price you pay for the chains you refuse
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a beeÕs wing
And I miss her 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
Well I wouldnÕt want her any other way
http://richardthompson.tumblr.com/
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"After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music".
-Aldous Huxley
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Edited by - lemonade kid on 30/04/2014 23:30:35 |
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SHOOT OUT THE LIGHTS-Richard Thompson, none better
