Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song In the Twilight, artist - Judy Collins.
Date of issue: 24.09.2014
Song language: English
In the Twilight |
She’s a lady, |
and she barely knows her name now |
In the twilight as she sleeps |
And her memories chase her down the days of childhood |
There was music, always music |
And her brothers — there was Robert, |
the captain of a freighter that sailed to China |
There was Shannon, who ran off one icy morning |
And then Herbert and then Frank, all so handsome |
And her sisters, who were beautiful |
and yearned to be together. |
She’s a lady, |
and she’s sleeping like a princess |
who will wake up and drink amber |
from a slipper made of diamonds |
She was married to a blind man who was my father, |
such a charmer, and another whose name was Robert |
Who holds her fragile hand while I am weeping |
Chardonnay in a crystal glass, |
amethysts on her fingers |
Roses and forget-me-nots |
in the garden where she lingered |
All around her the snowy peaks |
drew her eyes with wonder |
All of her betrayals drowned |
in the roaring canyon’s thunder |
She’s a lady, |
and she always dressed in silk and had her hair done |
and her clothes were pretty colors |
and the scent of Chanel in her satin cloak |
when she went dancing with my father |
when they were very young |
She’s a lady, |
and saw nearly twenty presidents and she voted for Obama |
In the old days, |
sipping Presbyterians, she’d argue with her children |
who had opinions about everything that mattered |
And she’d tell of the time she saw Rachmaninoff. |
Chardonnay in a crystal glass, amethysts in her |
necklace Roses and forget-me-nots |
and three sons so fine and reckless |
Daughters too, who were free like her |
One who sang and one who painted |
She loved them all ever more and more |
And thought all of us should be sainted |
She’s a lady, |
and she barely knows my name now |
In the twilight, and she sleeps most of the day |
and when she wakes up she says that she’s going home |
And asks me how I knew where to find her |
In this home that’s not her home |
She sees her garden, |
Growing wild since she had to leave the sweetness |
of those afternoons on her patio |
Where Robert kept the flowers blooming. |
She’s a lady, |
and she’s going home she tells me |
in the twilight as her eyes close |
I ask her where, |
and she says that it’s a secret |
Then she’s gone just like the flowers in her garden. |
Chardonnay in a crystal glass, amethysts on her fingers |
Roses and forget-me-nots in the garden |
where she lingered |
All around her the snowy peaks |
drew her eyes with wonder |
All of her betrayals drowned |
in the roaring canyon’s thunder |
Marjorie, my mother, sweet Marjorie of the garden |
That blooms now in my heart |