Her name was Lily Grey
And like the breeze, she is free
As she dances among the rolling hills painted green
With the coming of Spring. Oh, she was young,
A true angel in her fair town.
-you can still hear her father cry.
She would wake suddenly with nightmares and he would whisper “don't cry
my dear, I'll never let anyone hurt my Lily Grey.”
The folks still whisper about her in town
As if she'll come bounding back home, hair flying free
Her image frozen in time, she will be young
Like Spring's first green.
Like the first humming bird, flapping wildly, body a blurred green,
Or the world after eyes rubbed red from a long, hard cry
over how she was so young.
Oh, that poor Lily Grey!
Though now her soul runs free
throughout her mourning town
It was only three Springs ago that the bells rang across this town
The dress she wore was a floral green
as she sang so loud and free
“The lilies are in full bloom!” while her song became a joyous cry
And that was the dear Lily Grey.
She was so young.
...So young.
They sent search parties out from the town
They crept through the forest, yelling out “Lily Grey!
Come home, little one!” Only to find themselves lost in a thick green
brush. Struck by despair, they could only cry.
Her footprints led deeper into the wood, as if she had simply broke free.
As if she just kicked off her shoes and thought to herself I am free
Her thoughts deranged from being so young
but a man who had searched swore he heard her cry
for her father, or that's at least rumored throughout town
Like how her eyes reflected the depths of Heaven, such a beautiful green
because everyone loved Lily Grey
They loved seeing her run free through the town
or sitting below the young maple tree in the common; the leaves a fresh green
-And how her father still cries for his dear Lily Grey.
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