I met a woman in Sydney who looked like cigarette smoke

Her hair was colored with memories and her mouth with a joke

Said “I don’t care for the opera, they might start singing off key

no no no, the opera’s not for me


She held tight to her coffee as we walked by the bay

She told me she’d moved from Brooklyn, and with her thoughts on parade

I asked “What brought you to Sydney?” She told me “Love brought me here,

oh, I have a story my dear


As we sat by the harbor, she slowly unpacked her life

Once a prophet of romance, later two times a wife

Said “My heart, it was broken, so I broke hearts in return

Then I crashed and burned


See, I lost two men to history, one was shot in the war

The other’s raising my children after I ran out the door

Oh and sometimes you lose love, sometimes you throw it away

And I’ve thrown it away

Oh my dear, my dear, never throw love away