A Prayer to Old Idols

She lived across the landing in the year of the miners' strike, sold tickets at the picture house where no one'd ever go
It was a long, hot summer, swans died in the heat, she wore her hair in a beehive
I'd sweep up at the barber's dreaming of fame beneath a gilt-framed picture
of a fox hunting scene, I had a headful of secrets and a heartful of dreams
She was as lovely as a poppy abloom in a ditch, the loveliest I'd ever seen

I prayed to old idols for my youth back again, in a chicken-and rib joint I declared my love,
She laughed at the way my shoes squeaked when I walked
And I touched her face and she let me.

We went for a walk, she lost her shoe in a stream, we watched a glider swoon in the blue, blue beyond, she swam like a mermaid right round Keeper's Pond,
Ah, God bless that September

Then came one day, a damp, smoky dusk, she said I'm going away, don't ask me why, I just must
And pain struck me dumb on that waterlogged hill,
Struck me down like the sword of Jehovah

I sat out that autumn in so many dingy pubs 'til I took to the roads one cold December night
All that I took was a snapshot of her, I left the lights on and the front door wide open,
I've been all over the world these past twenty years and I've fallen in love maybe a handful
of times. But my quest drives me on and I'll never stop
'Cause I know that one day I'll find her