Sweet Sir Galahad
Sweet Sir Galahadcame in through the windowin the night whenthe moon was in the yard.He took her hand in hisand shook the long hairfrom his neck and he told hershe'd been working much too hard.It was true that ever since the dayher crazy man had passed awayto the land of poet's pride,she laughed and talked alotwith new people on the blockbut always at evening time she cried.
And here's to the dawn of their days.
She moved her heada little down on the beduntil it rested softly on his knee.And there she dropped her smileand there she sighed awhile,and told him all the sadnessof those years that numbered three.Well you know I think my fate's belatedbecause of all the hours I waitedfor the day when I'd no longer cry.I get myself to work by eightbut oh, was I born too late,and do you think I'll failat every single thing I try?
And here's to the dawn of their days.
He just put his arm around herand that's the way I found hereight months later to the day.The lines of a smile erasedthe tear tracks upon her face,a smile could linger, even stay.Sweet Sir Galahad went downwith his gay bride of flowers,the prince of the hoursof her lifetime.
And here's to the dawnof their days,of their days.