Sweet Sir Galahad

came in through the window

in the night when

the moon was in the yard.

He took her hand in his

and shook the long hair

from his neck and he told her

she'd been working much too hard.

It was true that ever since the day

her crazy man had passed away

to the land of poet's pride,

she laughed and talked alot

with new people on the block

but always at evening time she cried.



And here's to the dawn of their days.



She moved her head

a little down on the bed

until it rested softly on his knee.

And there she dropped her smile

and there she sighed awhile,

and told him all the sadness

of those years that numbered three.

Well you know I think my fate's belated

because of all the hours I waited

for the day when I'd no longer cry.

I get myself to work by eight

but oh, was I born too late,

and do you think I'll fail

at every single thing I try?



And here's to the dawn of their days.



He just put his arm around her

and that's the way I found her

eight months later to the day.

The lines of a smile erased

the tear tracks upon her face,

a smile could linger, even stay.

Sweet Sir Galahad went down

with his gay bride of flowers,

the prince of the hours

of her lifetime.



And here's to the dawn

of their days,

of their days.