| Song | Darling Belle |
| Artist | The Incredible String Band |
| Album | BBC Radio 1 Live in Concert |
| 作词 : Williamson | |
| papa would take me to the park to see the swans | |
| by hansom cab trotting so high | |
| holding his hand to see the swans | |
| hissing louder than rustling dresses of gracious ladies bustling by | |
| see swan ships come sailing in | |
| white as the clouds on a windy day | |
| James I suppose would be in school | |
| James I suppose would be in school | |
| I was I was learning to spell | |
| laughing at loud smells | |
| avoiding the rod of the codfaced master | |
| was it your absence made me quiet at noon | |
| playing british bulldogs on the gravel | |
| was it your presence coloured my dream | |
| I burrowed in cupboards like a mole all saturday | |
| under old chairs and old ladies knees | |
| I framed your half remembered face | |
| with frail white embroideries | |
| calling for you down the mousey garden | |
| calling for you down the mousey garden | |
| o did you meet him at the ball | |
| eighteen years on | |
| tall soldier now and you full grown | |
| Belle did you meet him at the ball | |
| o do you remember me | |
| thin girl with cold hands | |
| you in your scarlet and you knew my name | |
| step to the veranda under the wisteria | |
| in the mysterious november | |
| dancing as if with death or fate | |
| to the moon black ballroom | |
| of the silk skinned lake | |
| kissing me you lifted my skirt | |
| under the willow trees | |
| keep the home fires burning | |
| though your heart is yearning | |
| though the boys are far away | |
| they dream of home | |
| there's a silver lining | |
| in the dark clouds shining | |
| turn that lining inside out | |
| till the boys come home | |
| o did I see you march to the train | |
| did I cry was my nose red | |
| my two day bride can you feel me in your memory | |
| I will be the redness in your iron fire | |
| how could i write | |
| my words would seem sad or gay | |
| we regret to inform you | |
| we regret to inform you | |
| meet me by gaslight in the dark dawn | |
| on waterloo bridge we will walk arm in arm | |
| hearing the leaves fall with whisper into the foggy dew | |
| when we are dead | |
| when we are dead | |
| now she sits in her brother's window's house | |
| skin like a lizard aura like a daffodil | |
| migrant guest from relative to inlaw | |
| she stares into the embers and remembers |
| zuò cí : Williamson | |
| papa would take me to the park to see the swans | |
| by hansom cab trotting so high | |
| holding his hand to see the swans | |
| hissing louder than rustling dresses of gracious ladies bustling by | |
| see swan ships come sailing in | |
| white as the clouds on a windy day | |
| James I suppose would be in school | |
| James I suppose would be in school | |
| I was I was learning to spell | |
| laughing at loud smells | |
| avoiding the rod of the codfaced master | |
| was it your absence made me quiet at noon | |
| playing british bulldogs on the gravel | |
| was it your presence coloured my dream | |
| I burrowed in cupboards like a mole all saturday | |
| under old chairs and old ladies knees | |
| I framed your half remembered face | |
| with frail white embroideries | |
| calling for you down the mousey garden | |
| calling for you down the mousey garden | |
| o did you meet him at the ball | |
| eighteen years on | |
| tall soldier now and you full grown | |
| Belle did you meet him at the ball | |
| o do you remember me | |
| thin girl with cold hands | |
| you in your scarlet and you knew my name | |
| step to the veranda under the wisteria | |
| in the mysterious november | |
| dancing as if with death or fate | |
| to the moon black ballroom | |
| of the silk skinned lake | |
| kissing me you lifted my skirt | |
| under the willow trees | |
| keep the home fires burning | |
| though your heart is yearning | |
| though the boys are far away | |
| they dream of home | |
| there' s a silver lining | |
| in the dark clouds shining | |
| turn that lining inside out | |
| till the boys come home | |
| o did I see you march to the train | |
| did I cry was my nose red | |
| my two day bride can you feel me in your memory | |
| I will be the redness in your iron fire | |
| how could i write | |
| my words would seem sad or gay | |
| we regret to inform you | |
| we regret to inform you | |
| meet me by gaslight in the dark dawn | |
| on waterloo bridge we will walk arm in arm | |
| hearing the leaves fall with whisper into the foggy dew | |
| when we are dead | |
| when we are dead | |
| now she sits in her brother' s window' s house | |
| skin like a lizard aura like a daffodil | |
| migrant guest from relative to inlaw | |
| she stares into the embers and remembers |