|
Sweet Sir Galahad |
|
Came in through the window |
|
In the night when |
|
The moon was in the yard. |
|
He took her hand in his |
|
And shook the long hair |
|
From his neck and he told her |
|
She'd been working much too hard. |
|
It was true that ever since the day |
|
Her crazy man had passed away |
|
To the land of poet's pride, |
|
She laughed and talked a lot |
|
With new people on the block |
|
But always at evening time she cried. |
|
|
|
And here's to the dawn of their days. |
|
She moved her head |
|
A little down on the bed |
|
Until it rested softly on his knee. |
|
And there she dropped her smile |
|
And there she sighed awhile, |
|
And told him all the sadness |
|
Of those years that numbered three. |
|
Well you know I think my fate's belated |
|
Because of all the hours I waited |
|
For the day when I'd no longer cry. |
|
I get myself to work by eight |
|
But oh, was I born too late, |
|
And do you think I'll fail |
|
At every single thing I try? |
|
|
|
And here's to the dawn of their days. |
|
He just put his arm around her |
|
And that's the way I found her |
|
Eight months later to the day. |
|
The lines of a smile erased |
|
The tear tracks upon her face, |
|
A smile could linger, even stay. |
|
Sweet Sir Galahad went down |
|
With his gay bride of flowers, |
|
The prince of the hours |
|
Of her lifetime. |
|
|
|
And here's to the dawn |
|
Of their days, |
|
Of their days. |
