Many a Fine Lady

Well, it's many a fine lady that's laid down beside me
with her flesh made of velvet and her eyes made of rain
some tried to hold me, to hurt me, to hide me
and some turned away not to look back again
One stood among them, I remember most clearly
for her sorrows were heavy, and her laughter was slow
I treated her gently, for I loved her most dearly
And I came her majestic reflections to know
Her words, like a mountain, stood lonely and lofty
with her face like a daydream and hair like the shawl
worn by a mourner who steals away softly
from those who would have him mourn nothing at all
Endlessly sorrow rode high on the north wind
slashing and slicing to take him his toll
and endlessly creatures of darkness were cutting
their paths throught the wall that sheltered her soul
No longer gipsy-like, sadness unending
her eyes they lie hollow and her face petrified
Now some would go laughing, and others condemning
but who there among you could have told her goodbye
Well, it's many a fine lady that 's laid down beside me
with her flesh made of velvet and her eyes made of rain
some tried to hold me, to hurt me, to hide me
and some turned away not to look back again.