Fotheringay

How often she has gazed From castle windows o'er 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 Or the lonely Fotheringay