A Witer Shade of Pale

We skipped the last fandango,
Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor.
I was feeling kind of seasick,
The crowd called out for more.

The room was humming harder
As the ceiling flew away,
When we called out for another drink,
The waiter brought a tray.

And so it was that later,
As the miller told his tale,
That her face, at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale.


Keith Reid / Garu Brooker








She said, "There is no reason,
And the truth is plain to see".
But I wandered through my playing cards,
Would not let her be one of sixteen vestal virgins
Who were leaving for the coast.

And although my eyes were open,
They might have just as well been closed.
And so it was later, as the miller told his tale,
That her face, at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale.



And so it was that later...