| Let fall your soft and swaying skirt
|
| Let fall your shoes, let fall your shirt
|
| I’m not the ladykilling sort
|
| Enough to hurt a girl in port
|
| Marie’s gone blonde and lost a stone
|
| She lay on her lawn, spun and alone
|
| And, when the morning sun it rose
|
| Upon Marie in her lacy clothes
|
| It lit her up, and she walked around
|
| The winding streets of Camden Town
|
| She don’t know who she wants to be
|
| And if I knew, I’d tell Marie
|
| Let fall your soft and swaying skirt
|
| Let fall your shoes, let fall your shirt
|
| I’m not the ladykilling sort
|
| Enough to hurt a girl in port
|
| Cindy tells me she’s had fun
|
| Sitting backstage, someone’s plus one
|
| Up in her room the records spin
|
| Needle in the grooves that she’s worn thin
|
| She lifts a sleeve and she sees a name
|
| And she’s got a smile on her face
|
| And she’s got a story you can’t see
|
| It’s just between that name and Cindy
|
| And before Holly made her way
|
| Over the sea and far away
|
| She’s telling me, inside her car
|
| Driving us back from the Crystal Corner bar
|
| «I lost it there, I fell from health
|
| Cut some fresh pieces from myself.»
|
| And then, for a second, something in me
|
| Said, «Leave today. |
| It’s time, Holly.»
|
| Well, I’m a weak and lonely sort
|
| Though I’m not sailing just for sport
|
| I’ve come to feel, out on the sea
|
| These urgent lives press against me
|
| I’m just a guest. |
| I’m not a part
|
| With my tender head, with my easy heart
|
| These several years out on the sea
|
| Have made me empty, cold, and clear. |
| Pour yourself into me
|
| Let fall your soft and swaying skirt
|
| Let fall your shoes, let fall your shirt
|
| I’m not the ladykilling sort
|
| Enough to hurt a girl in port |