© Traditional (arranged by jiva)
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 passion’s 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 words intent I did not stint I gave her poems to say
With her own name there and her long 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 wooed 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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