(E. JohnB. Taupin)

When the shrill winds are screaming

And the evening is still

Lady samantha glides over the hill

In a long satin dress that she wears every day

Her home is the hillside, her bed is the grave



Lady samantha glides like a tiger

Over the hills with no one beside her

No one comes near

They all live in fear

But lady samantha, she sheds only tears



The tales that I told round the fire every night

Are out of proportion and none of them right

She is harmless and empty of anything bad

For she once had something that most of you have