See the ruins on the hill
Where the smoke is hanging still
Like an echo of an age
Long forgotten
There's a story of a home
Crushed beneath those blackened stones
And the roof that fell before
The beams were rotten
Seems old Darby loved his wife
And he labored all his life
To provide her
With material possessions
And he built for her a home
Of the finest wood and stone
And the building soon became
His sole obsession
Oh, it took three hundred days
For the timbers to be raised
And the silhouette
Was seen for miles around
And the gables reached as high
As the eagles in the sky
But it only took one night to bring it down
When Darby's castle tumbled to the ground
Though they shared the common bed
There was precious little said
In the moments that were set
Aside for sleeping
For his busy dreams were filled
With the rooms he'd yet to build
And he never heard young Helen Darby weeping
Then one night he heard the sound
And as he laid his pencil down
He traced it to her door
And turned the handle
And the pale light of the moon
Through the window of her room
Split the shadows where two bodies
Lay in tangle
Oh, it took three hundred days
For the timbers to be raised
And the silhouette
Was seen for miles around
And the gables reached as high
As the eagles in the sky
But it only took one night to bring it down
When Darby's castle tumbled to the ground