She lived across the landing in the year of the miners' strike, sold tickets at the picture house where no one'd ever gonIt was a long, hot summer, swans died in the heat, she wore her hair in a beehivenI'd sweep up at the barber's dreaming of fame beneath a gilt-framed picture nof a fox hunting scene, I had a headful of secrets and a heartful of dreamsnShe was as lovely as a poppy abloom in a ditch, the loveliest I'd ever seennnI prayed to old idols for my youth back again, in a chicken-and rib joint I declared my love,nShe laughed at the way my shoes squeaked when I walkednAnd I touched her face and she let me.nnWe went for a walk, she lost her shoe in a stream, we watched a glider swoon in the blue, blue beyond, she swam like a mermaid right round Keeper's Pond,nAh, God bless that SeptembernnThen came one day, a damp, smoky dusk, she said I'm going away, don't ask me why, I just mustnAnd pain struck me dumb on that waterlogged hill, nStruck me down like the sword of JehovahnnI sat out that autumn in so many dingy pubs 'til I took to the roads one cold December nightnAll that I took was a snapshot of her, I left the lights on and the front door wide open,nI've been all over the world these past twenty years and I've fallen in love maybe a handful nof times. But my quest drives me on and I'll never stopn'Cause I know that one day I'll find her