'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.'
(joan baez)
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