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She Moved Through The Fair

de Celtic Thunder

She may be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret
Maybe my treasure or the price
I have to pay
She may be the song the summer sings
May be the chill the autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in the stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She, who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them, when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
That comes to me from shadows in the past

And I'll remember 'till the day I die
She maybe the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I care for through the rough
and ready years
Me, I'll take the laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is

She
She
Oh, she

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