CHORUS (after every verse):
     
          She's mad in white linen, her form fairly glows,
          Clad in her shift, down the hallways she goes.
          Singing, she laughs through the tears that she cries,
          Staring right through you with unseeing eyes.
     
     Those eyes hold a grief that no joy can dispel.
     They saw her babes slaughtered when Highcastle fell.
     Their murderer, seeking a throne in the strife,
     He took him the woman he'd widowed to wife.
     
     Her hair flies about her, so vividly red,
     Loose and still tangled from Throne-seeker's bed.
     Her white shoulders carry the marks of his belt,
     And black are the bruises his heavy hands dealt.
     
     They say in the night when the Keep was brought low,
     She fled down a way her new Lord could not go,
     Her feet bare and bleeding, her eyes calm and wild;
     My grandfather saw her when he was a child.