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