I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side,
That bright May morning long ago
When first you were my bride.
The corn was springing fresh and green,
The lark sang loud and high,
The red was on your lip, Mary,
The love-light in your eye.

"After all the jacks are in their boxes
And the clowns have all gone to bed
You can hear happiness staggering on down the street
Footprints dressed in red
And the wind whispers, "Mary"
A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life
Somewhere, a queen is weeping
Somewhere, a king has no wife
And the wind, it cries, "Mary"
The traffic lights, they turn blue tomorrow
And shine their emptiness down on my bed
The tiny island sags downstream
'Cause the life that lived is dead
And the wind screams, "Mary"
Will the wind ever remember
The names it has blown in the past?
And with this crutch, its old age and its wisdom
It whispers, "No, this will be the last"
And the wind cries, "Mary

Your lips are thrilling
My arms are willing
I know that I shouldn't stay.
If I don't leave I'll be sorry
What will my Mary say?

Although we must leave you,
Fair Castle of Mey,
We shall never forget,
Nor will never repay,
A meal of such splendour,
Repast of such zest,
It will take us to Sunday,
Just to digest.
To leafy Balmoral,
We are now on our way,
But our hearts will remain
At the Castle of Mey.
With your gardens and ranges,
And all your good cheer,
We will be back again soon
So roll on next year.

Let my heiress have full rights,
Live in my house, sing songs that I composed.
Yet how slowly my strength ebbs,
How the tortured breast craves air.
The love of my friends, my enemies' rancor
And the yellow roses in my bushy garden,
And a lover's burning tenderness—all this
I bestow upon you, messenger of dawn.
Also the glory for which I was born,
For which my star, like some whirlwind, soared
And now falls. Look, its falling
Prophesies your power, love and inspiration.
Preserving my generous bequest,
You will live long and worthily.
Thus it will be. You see, I am content,
Be happy, but remember me.

Goodbye England's rose,
May you ever grow in our hearts.
You were the grace that placed itself
Where lives were torn apart. You called out to our country,
And you whispered to those in pain.
Now you belong to Heaven,
And the stars spell out your name. And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind,
Never fading with the sunset,
When the rain set in.