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 bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was
(
Read more... )