Traditional, words by Patrick Kavanagh, arranged by Van Morrison/Paddy Moloney
On Raglan Road
on an Autumn Day,
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a
snare
That I may one day rue.
I saw the danger, yet I walked
Along the enchanted
way
And I said let grief be a falling 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 worst of passions pledged.
The Queen of Hearts still baking tarts
And I
not making hay,
Well I loved too much; by such and such
Is happiness thrown away.
I gave her the gifts of the mind.
I gave her the secret sign
That's known to
all the artists who have
Known true Gods of Sound and Time.
With word and tint I did not
stint.
I gave her reams of poems to say
With her own dark hair and her own name
there
Like the 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,
For I
have 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 the day
