See the ruins on the hill where the smoke is hanging still
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Like an echo of an age long forgotten
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There's a story of a home crushed beneath those blackened stones
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And the roof that fell before the beams were rotten
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Cecil Darby loved his wife and he labored all his life
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To provide her with material possessions
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And he built for her a home of the finest wood and stone
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And the building soon became his sole obsession
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Oh it took three hundred days for the timbers to be raised
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And the silhouette was seen for miles around
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And the gables reached as high as the eagles in the sky
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But it only took one night to bring it down
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When Darby's castle tumbled to the ground
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Though they shared the common bed there was precious little said
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In the moments that were set aside for sleeping
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For his busy dreams were filled with the rooms he'd yet to build
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And he never heard young Helen Darby weeping
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Then one night he heard the sound and as he laid his pencil down
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He traced it to her door and turned the handle
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And the pale light of the moon through the window of her room
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Split the shadows where two bodies lay in tangle
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Oh it took three hundred days...
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Darby's Castle
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| Bobby Bare |
