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Pisang

Pisang is a village development committee in Manang District in the Gandaki Zone of northern Nepal. At the time of the 2001 Nepal census it had a population of 707 people living in 142 individual households. Pisang consists of two parts divided by the Marsyangdi river: Lower Pisang (3200 m) and Upper Pisang (3300 m). There is a Buddhist temple in Upper Pisang.

References

  • "National Report 2001" (PDF). Central Bureau of Statistics, Government of Nepal.

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    PLAYLIST TIME:

    Beeswing

    by: Richard Thompson

    I was nineteen when I came to town
    They called it the Summer of Love
    They were burning babies, burning flags
    The hawks against the doves
    I took a job in the steamie
    Down on Cauldrum Street
    And I fell in love with a laundry girl
    Who was working next to me
    Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
    So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
    She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
    She said, "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
    And you wouldn't want me any other way"
    Brown hair zig-zag around her face
    And a look of half-surprise
    Like a fox caught in the headlights
    There was animal in her eyes
    She said, "Young man, oh can't you see
    I'm not the factory kind
    If you don't take me out of here
    I'll surely lose my mind"
    Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
    So fine that I might crush her where she lay
    She was a lost child, she was running wild
    She said, "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
    And you wouldn't want me any other way"
    We busked around the market towns
    And picked fruit down in Kent
    And we could tinker lamps and pots
    And knives wherever we went
    And I said that we might settle down
    Get a few acres dug
    Fire burning in the hearth and babies on the rug
    She said "Oh man, you foolish man
    It surely sounds like hell
    You might be Lord of half the world
    You'll not own me as well"
    Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
    So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
    She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
    She said, "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
    And you wouldn't want me any other way"
    We was camping down the Gower one time
    The work was pretty good
    She thought we shouldn't wait for the frost
    And I thought maybe we should
    We was drinking more in those days
    And tempers reached a pitch
    And like a fool I let her run
    With the rambling itch
    Oh the last I heard she's sleeping rough
    Back on the Derby beat
    White Horse in her hip pocket
    And a wolfhound at her feet
    And they say she even married once
    A man named Romany Brown
    But even a gypsy caravan
    Was too much settling down
    And they say her flower is faded now
    Hard weather and hard booze
    But maybe that's just the price
    You pay for the chains you refuse
    Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
    And I miss her more than ever words could say
    If I could just taste all of her wildness now
    If I could hold her in my arms today




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