Richard Thompson

Fotheringay

Richard Thompson


How often she has gazed from castle windows all 
And watched the daylight passing 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