I remember Mary's FancynWith painted rugs on veranda doorsnAnd Kit who cooks surprises in foodsnFrom the Grenadines and GuadeloupenAnd the old man sang as he measured the rumnAnd sang in the street band, walking by on the roadnnThen at night and sometimes afternoonsnMy visitor would slip through curtain doorsnShe was far too youngnThe moon turned gold to bronzenAs the afternoons slipped down into the seannOh I remember Mary's FancynWalking along in sun-dried clothesnFrom the beach to the town, to the top of the hillnWherever we went led back to our roomnAnd the sails we watched from our shadowy bednWith flags of ships waiting out in the baynnShe was far too youngnWhen the easy rainnHeld us prisoner for the nightnAnd what we did in the place was everythingnAnd beauty shed her grace on theennMary's Fancy stands there stillnAn empty shell on a dried out hillnBut once together we laughed and weptnNow the memory of my love is keptnWhere ships sail in to sail awaynIn a sense she'll return like another daynnAnd love that made it Mary's FancynLove that made it Mary's Fancy - gone.