Hands of Gold - Ed Sheeran (艾德·希兰)

Down from his hill on high

O'er the wynds and the steps and the cobble

He rode to a woman's sigh

For she was his secret treasure

She was his shame and his bliss

And a chain and a keep are nothing

Compared to a woman's kiss

For hands of gold are always cold

But a woman's hands are warm

For hands of gold are always cold

But a woman's hands are