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Length: 5:26
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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 a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay.
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
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 "Young man, oh can't you see I'm not the factory kind
If you don't take me out of here I'll surely lose my mind"
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine that I might crush her where she lay
She was a lost child, she was running wild
She said "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay.
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
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 "Oh man, you foolish man, it surely sounds like hell.
You might be lord of half the world, you'll not own me as well"
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay.
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
We was camping down the Gower one time, the work was pretty good
She thought we shouldn't 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 she's 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 that's just the price you pay for the chains you refuse
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's 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 wouldn't want her any other way
Beautiful song and lyrics. I don't believe Mr. Thompson is the pretentious one here. I've seen him in concert twice and he is truly talented.
I read the lyrics as this played.
I don't know what else to say other than -
Great.
Look over the left.
An interesting article with the answer and some of the back ground here:
Beeswing by Richard Thompson review – beyond Fairport Convention | Autobiography and memoir | The Guardian
One of the finest songs ever written, period!
Well there is ...
(Red hair and black leather and so on)
"i'm not sure who wrote it but"... I'm too stupid and lazy to find out
Look over the left.
I hate to be the troll I hate, buuuut:
Haven't I heard this guy at every open mic, ever?
Well, you are a type of troll. The deeply ignorant sort. Satisfied?
In this case, Mr. Thompson has made a masterful use of the form to slyly suggest a moral lesson in the last verse. "But maybe that's just the price you pay for the chains you refuse". I guess not all is, as it might seem...
Geez I'm trying to eat here, this noise is making me gag
Please do.
One of the single best lost-love ballads ever written, and here, marvelously played.
traditional english folk but from an OBE.
Anyone accepting a UK establishment "honour" is suspect
Haven't I heard this guy at every open mic, ever?
"i'm not sure who wrote it but"... I'm too stupid and lazy to find out
It would be karma if you choked ... and species improvement
ScottishWillie wrote:
"You're a performer on the first two Nick Drake albums. How did you end up with that gig? What was it like working with Nick Drake?
He was with the same management company and on the same record label as me. It was a fairly small community. John Boyd used to run this management and production company. There was John W. Martin, Nick Drake, Sandy Denny, Chris MacGregor — it was a small, tight-knit community.
So the obvious place to look for other musicians was within that musical family. So I got to play on a couple of Nick's records. He was pretty quiet, didn't say much. But in 1968 and '69, a lot of people didn't say anything, so it didn't seem unusual at the time."
I enjoy learning little bits of lore like that. Thanks. : )
Gazraman wrote:
Effin' great! Almost spit out my coffee at work when he started singing.
Gazraman wrote:
i'm really sorry you dont get it.
he's a true gem in contemporary song writing. seen him 3 times in concert.....pretty god damn good showman as well.
But maybe that's just the price you pay for the chains that you refuse
A heartbreaking fate, but so beautifully expressed.
Beautiful song and lyrics. I don't believe Mr. Thompson is the pretentious one here. I've seen him in concert twice and he is truly talented.
Totally agree. He's fabulous in concert. I've seen him a number of times from like 15 feet away. You can see what he's doing on the guitar, but you can't do it, no you can't ;-).
Beautiful song and lyrics. I don't believe Mr. Thompson is the pretentious one here. I've seen him in concert twice and he is truly talented.
The world of music is blessed to have Richard Thompson in it.
He does write some great songs, I also like covers of his songs by other artists, that's a sign of a good writer when someone else does your song and it sounds good.
Nick and Richard were stablemates in the 60s on Island Records. Richard played on Nicks's first 2 albums. He was asked about it in an interview with Westword:
"You're a performer on the first two Nick Drake albums. How did you end up with that gig? What was it like working with Nick Drake?
He was with the same management company and on the same record label as me. It was a fairly small community. John Boyd used to run this management and production company. There was John W. Martin, Nick Drake, Sandy Denny, Chris MacGregor — it was a small, tight-knit community.
So the obvious place to look for other musicians was within that musical family. So I got to play on a couple of Nick's records. He was pretty quiet, didn't say much. But in 1968 and '69, a lot of people didn't say anything, so it didn't seem unusual at the time."
When there are so many great songs played by RP, why oh why do we have to listen to this whiney drivel?
Please oh please take it out of rotation!
Ah, take yerself out of rotation! If sublime beauty and emotion aren't your thing, mute away.
The world of music is blessed to have Richard Thompson in it.
Plus, he is a superb guitarist with a storied past.
Not a mid-west accent, unless you are talking Britain.
All is well in my world.
Superlatives insufficient!
Thank you RP, I really enjoyed this one!
Yes!
+10
This is on my list of perfect songs. Songs that simply could not possibly be improved upon. Once on this list there is no comparing one to another... they are all perfect.
When there are so many great songs played by RP, why oh why do we have to listen to this whiney drivel?
Please oh please take it out of rotation!
7.4 out of 750 reviews. Richard is Solid. bar graph don't lie.
When there are so many great songs played by RP, why oh why do we have to listen to this whiney drivel?
Please oh please take it out of rotation!
...... obviously you have a severe hearing disorder
When there are so many great songs played by RP, why oh why do we have to listen to this whiney drivel?
Please oh please take it out of rotation!
+10
No matter the reason, it resonates within my heart.
+1
TerryS wrote:
ARTIST: Richard Thompson
TITLE: Bee's Wing
Lyrics and Chords
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
/ D Bm D - / / / A - G - /:
{Refrain}
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
/ Bm - - - D - - - / Bm A G A G - - - / 1st /
/ Bm A G A G - D - / Em D G A G - D - /
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 "Young man, oh can't you see
I'm not the factory kind
If you don't take me out of here
I'll surely lose my mind"
{Refrain}
...So fine that I might crush her where she lay...
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 "Oh man, you foolish man
It surely sounds like hell.
You might be lord of half the world
You'll not own me as well"
{Refrain}
...So fine a breath of wind might blow her away...
We was camping down the Gower one time
The work was pretty good
She thought we shouldn't 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 she's 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 that's just the price you pay
For the chains you refuse
{As Refrain}
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's 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 wouldn't want her any other way
I believe Richard Thompson wrote and performed this himself. He introduced the song in a performance I watched as one of "his".
No matter the reason, it resonates within my heart.
Wouldn't be Richard Thompson would it?
My word, depends whether you like layers of cheese - about the only original bit of lyric is "fine as a beeswing" - the rest is cliche big time.
I'm inclined to agree.
My word, depends whether you like layers of cheese - about the only original bit of lyric is "fine as a beeswing" - the rest is cliche big time.
love the lyrics and his vioce is haunting!
hear, hear...I like catching the old live version you can find on YouTube
This month a new album (Electric) and 2 gigs in London booked.
For the chains you refuse"
Folk is not my style, but the lyrics in this song, though a bit too affected, are gorgeous.
Me neither, cannot but agree. Had to sit down and read the lyrics. Great storytelling.
For the chains you refuse"
Folk is not my style, but the lyrics in this song, though a bit too affected, are gorgeous.
ARTIST: Richard Thompson
TITLE: Bee's Wing
Lyrics and Chords
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
/ D Bm D - / / / A - G - /:
{Refrain}
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
/ Bm - - - D - - - / Bm A G A G - - - / 1st /
/ Bm A G A G - D - / Em D G A G - D - /
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 "Young man, oh can't you see
I'm not the factory kind
If you don't take me out of here
I'll surely lose my mind"
{Refrain}
...So fine that I might crush her where she lay...
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 "Oh man, you foolish man
It surely sounds like hell.
You might be lord of half the world
You'll not own me as well"
{Refrain}
...So fine a breath of wind might blow her away...
We was camping down the Gower one time
The work was pretty good
She thought we shouldn't 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 she's 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 that's just the price you pay
For the chains you refuse
{As Refrain}
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's 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 wouldn't want her any other way
Man you couldn't be more wrong. Never heard a RT tune until I heard Greg Brown cover him- checked him out and now I'm hooked. Ever seen him? plays one of the meanest guitars I've ever heard.
x2. I just saw him last month. Wow!