INTRO                       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.   REST THE SAME HALF TONE UP   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.