Another Fotheringhay
“How often she has gazed from castle windows allAnd watch the daylight passing within her captive walls” *
Sounds of grief, sounds of sorrow, prelude to the light of dawn
It will come sometime tomorrow that the castle is all gone
“Her days of precious freedom, forfeited long before
To live such fruitless years behind a guarded door” *
Wars of love, wars of hate, times can be pretty rough
The most bitter of all fates: not to be loved or not to love
“Tomorrow at this hour she will be far away
Much farther than these islands or the lonely Fotheringhay” *
Tomorrow at this hour, I hope to live to see the day
I will walk the empty grounds of former castle Fotheringhay
Much farther than these islands or the lonely Fotheringhay” *
Tomorrow at this hour, I hope to live to see the day
I will walk the empty grounds of former castle Fotheringhay
P.S. Dit oorspronkelijke liedje gaat over de avond vóór de executie van Mary Stuart in 1587, die opgesloten zit in Fotheringhay Castle (dat bestaat niet meer, zelfs geen ruïne). Dit YouTube-videootje geeft een nogal romantisch beeld, de werkelijkheid was een tikkeltje anders: "Mary was not beheaded with a single strike. The first blow missed her neck and struck the back of her head. The second blow severed the neck, except for a small bit of sinew, which the executioner cut through using the axe. Afterward, he held her head aloft and declared, "God save the Queen." At that moment, the auburn tresses (vert. kastanjebruine lokken) in his hand turned out to be a wig and the head fell to the ground, revealing that Mary had very short, grey hair." (bron: Wikipedia)