Fairy Song: [Collected at Levanto (La Spezia) Italia]
Warmed over pine-cones
The water washed me;
My mother fed me
A fried squash-flower;
The black priest blessed me
Upon his Vespa.
The water washed me;
My mother fed me
A fried squash-flower;
The black priest blessed me
Upon his Vespa.
As I passed by the barber’s
They were cutting the hair
Of a boy who, waving,
Sat on a horse-headed chair.
They were cutting the hair
Of a boy who, waving,
Sat on a horse-headed chair.
Ah, come away, come away
To the Bar, my beloved —
There, clothed in the jeans
Of a ranch of the West,
We’ll dance to the clear strains
Of The Little Complex.
To the Bar, my beloved —
There, clothed in the jeans
Of a ranch of the West,
We’ll dance to the clear strains
Of The Little Complex.