(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.


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