A WHITER SHADE OF PALE

Procol Harum

We skipped the light
 fandango
 And turned cartwheels
 Cross the floor
 I was feeling
 kind of sea-sick
 But the crowd
 Called out for more
 The room was humming harder
 As the ceiling flew away
 When we called out
 For another drink
 The waiter brought a tray
 And so it was that later
 As the miller told his tale
 That her face
 At first just ghostly
 Turned a whiter
 Shade of pale
  
 She said there is
 no reason
 And the truth
 is plain to see
 But I wandered Through
 my playing cards
 And would not let her be
 One of sixteen
 vestal virgins
 Who were leaving
 for the coast
 And althogh my eyes
 were open
 They might just Have well
 been closed
 And so it was that later
 As the miller told his tale
 That her face
 At first just ghostly
 Turned a whiter
 Shade of pale...