Matthews' Southern Comfort - The Castle Far | Текст песни

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• Matthews' Southern Comfort
• The Castle Far

The night is cold, the castle far, the forest lies between
My mind runs on and conjures scenes of love that might have been

My steed is lame, my lance is broken, my helmet cleaved in twain
The perils of the battle's past, the evil serpent slain

Perhaps the dawn will sign me home
And from the gates they'll run
Keen hands will lift me from my horse
And fife will sound with drum

The night is cold, the castle far, my prize not love but fame
And she for whom the fight was won will never bear my name

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