In the half-tone light of a young morning She sighs and shifts on the pillow. And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly To kiss the pussy willow.
In her fairy-tale world she's a lost soul singing In a sad voice nobody hears. She waits in her castle of make-believing For her white knight to appear.
Pusy willow --- down fur-lined avenue Brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes. Runs for the train --- see, eight o'clock's coming Cutting dreams down to size again.
Pussy willow --- down fur-lined avenue Brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes. Runs from the train. hear her typewriter humming Cutting dreams down to size again.
She longs for the east and a pale dress flowing An apartment in old mayfair. Or to fish the spey, spinning the first run of spring Or to die for a cause somewhere.
Pussy willow --- down fur-lined avenue Brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes. Runs from the train. hear her typewriter humming Cutting dreams down to size again.
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