Treasures often hide in places no one dares to look.
Mary of Hawthorn, will you marry me?
I whisper to myself as quickly she goes by
Mary of Hawthorn, though ugly I might be.
You've heard it of the wise,
beauty's nothing but a guise,
a velvet flask of lies,
a temporary prize.
What you need's forever
and it's right here in my eyes.
Mary of Hawthorn, though I live in poverty.
I'd give you all I have but all I have is me.
Mary of Hawthorn, though ignorant I might be,
whenever you go by my mind runs wild
with prose and poetry,
visions of a family,
our children looking up at me
and smiling as I touch their face,
they look so much like you.
Mary of Hawthorn, though crippled I may be.
I'd stand up for you love and protect you from your enemies
Mary of Hawthorn, I wish that you could see,
no man could ever love you half as much as me.
If only you could see,
as you pass me on the streets. . .
That, treasures often hide in places no one dares to look
A true hidden treasure of a song writer. This gent has been capturing songs in demo form on old tape recorders since the 80s. . . and he's still capturing his magic sounds in his secret basement. Damien Youth