Fotheringay

How often she has gazed from castle windows over

And watched the daylight passing within her captive wall

With no-one to heed her callThe evening hour is fading within the dwindling sun

And in a lonely moment those embers will be gone

And the last of all the young birds flownHer days of precious freedom, forfeited long before

To live such fruitless years behind a guarded door

But those days will last no moreTomorrow at this hour she will be far away

Much farther than these islands

Or the lonely Fotheringay