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 p**y 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-believe
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
p**y 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
p**y 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
p**y Willow, p**y Willow, p**y Willow, p**y Willow