| 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
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| she’d been working much too hard.
|
| It was true that ever since the day
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| her crazy man had passed away
|
| to the land of poet’s pride,
|
| she laughed and talked alot
|
| 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
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| 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.
|
| © 1968, 1970 Chandos Music (ASCAP) |