where the smoke is hanging still,
like an echo of an age long
There's a story of a home crushed
beneath those blackened stones
before the beams were rotten.
Cecil Darby loved his wife
and he labored all his life
to provide her with material possession.
And he built for her a home
of the finest wood and stone
and the building soon became
Oh, it took three hundred days
for the timbers to be raised,
And the gables reached as high
as the eagles in the sky,
but it only took one night
when Darby's castle tumbled to
Oh, they shared a common bed,
there was precious little Sid
In the moments that were set
For his busy dreams were filled
with the rooms he'd yet to build
Then one night he heard a sound
as he laid his pencil down
And he traced it to her door
In the pale light of the moon
through the window of the room
where two bodies lay entangled.
Oh, it took three hundred days
for the timbers to be raised
And so it was seen for miles around
And the gables reached as high
But it only took one night to bring it down
When Darby's castle tumbled to the ground
When Darby's castle tumbled to the ground
