Fotheringay

How often she has gazed from castle windows all And watched the daylight pa*sing within her captive wall With no one to heed her call The 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 flown Her days of precious freedom, forfeited long before To live such fruitless years behind a guarded door But those days will last no more Tomorrow, at this hour, she will be far away Much farther than these islands, for the lonely Fotheringay