(patrick kavanagh)
Performed at some concerts during her tour in 1995

On raglan road on an autumn day
I saw her first and knew,
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That i might one day rue.
I saw the danger yet i walked
Along the enchanted way.
And i said, "let grief be a fallen leaf
At the dawning of the day."

On grafton street in november,
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passions pledge.
The queen of hearts still making tarts
And i not making hay.
Oh, i loved too much by such, by such
Is happiness blown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind,
I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true
Gods of sound and stone.
And word and tint i did not stint
For i gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her dark hair,
Like clouds over fields of may.

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now,
Away from me so hurriedly.
My reason must allow,
That i had ruled, not as i should.
A creature made of clay.
When the angel woos the clay,
He'll lose his wings at the dawn of day.