Procol Harum - A whiter shade of pale 1967

We skipped the light fandango Turned cartwheels across the floor I was feeling kind a seasick 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 although my eyes were open They might have just as well have 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

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