Written by Patrick Kavanagh
Original arrangement by Luke Kelly
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew,
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger and I passed along the enchanted way,
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 the 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 and such by such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret signs,
That are known to the artists who have known true gods of sound and stone,
With words of tint and without stint I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own 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 have loved not as I should a creature made of clay,
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.