Somewhere South of Grantham.

The words they travelled softly
I heard our sorrow song,
The moon it mourned your shadow
And joined the spellbound throng.

When you walked and turned your head
I truly felt like crying,
The birds and angels worshipped you
And loved their life low-flying.

Your blood black hair and brown eyes
They soothed the lonely soul,
The rose it left the jacket
And escaped the buttonhole.

The whole town wept like Blue in Green
That Davis national anthem,
The day you left for the East-coast line
Just somewhere south on Grantham.