In My Memory Young She Does Remain

Perhaps she's not the beauty now that she once used to be And I may not recognize her today if her I see Her hair was as dark as the wing of a crow And her eyes as blue as the ripe November sloe. She was older than me by ten years or so And I only knew her just for to say hello And I was young then twelve going on thirteen And to the ways of life one might say quite green. So beautiful and graceful and stylish and tall And I had a crush on her I do recall I felt so very awkward when her I did meet Just a shy hello in passing on the street. So little of life's ways then I did seem to know For that is going back some fifty years ago When she left town I never see her again Yet in my memory young she still does remain.