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Three Dreamers - Bert Jansch
Under the archway across
The cold courtyard
Up the stone stairway
All pitted and worn
To a room in a shambles
With orange boxes for chairs
Our lives lay scattered
Still yet to be born
Now daylight would show you
The cracks in the ceiling
Wallpaper hanging all tattered and the torn
It looks like a junkyard of paraphernalia
Where three dreamers dreamed
Dreams still yet to be born
Now one was a dreamer a love torn romantic
Who sang ballads
Of barons and ladies forlorn
Who carved love chains
Of oakwood to capture his sweethearts
And life lay before him
Still yet to be born
The other was a maker
Of dreams from his fingers
Like a harp from old ireland
That would play night
And morn'
He would weave you
And spin you a yarn to remember
And leave you with sweet
Dreams still yet to be born