Words and music by Van Morrison
Down on Cyprus Avenue
With a child-like vision leaping
into view.
The clicking clacking of the high-heeled shoes,
Ford and Fitzroy; Madam
George.
Marching with the soldierboy behind
He's much older now with hat on, drinking
wine
And the smell of sweet perfume comes drifting thru
In the cool night breeze like
Shalimar
And then your self control lets go
And suddenly you're up against the bathroom
door.
The hallway lights are finely getting dim
You're in the front row touching
him
And outside they're making all the stops
The kinds out in the streets collecting
bottle tops,
Going for cigarettes and matches to the shops,
Happy talking, Madam
George
And that's when you fall, Oh,
Oh, that's when you fall
And you fall
into a trance
Sitting on a sofa playing games of chance
With your folded arms in history
books you glance
Into the eyes of Madam George
And you think you've found your
bag,
You're getting weaker and your knees begin to sag
And in the corner playing dominoes
in drag,
The one and only Madam George
And outside the frosty window raps
She says Be
cool, I think that it's the cops
Stands up, drops everything she gots,
It's not easy now
you know
Now you know you gotta go
Catch a train from Dublin up to Sandy Row,
In the
wind, rain & fog & slush & snow
Keep on going on
Say good-bye we know you're pretty far
out
And all the little boys comin' round
They got gold cigarette lighters in their
pockets
Walking away from it all, so cool.
That's when you fall.
