She wore a cloak of feathers
And rode a mare of purest white

A silver chalice in her hands
A look of sadness in her eyes

A thing of beauty to behold
But a sorrow to possess

She'll take all that you offer
Until there's nothing left
Nothing left

Face hidden in shadow
Beneath a hood of quills

The fittings of her raiment
Conceal all her ills

Beneath her cloak of feathers
Lies a body soft and fine

Eyes of hazel green
Flowing hair as dark as wine

A thing of beauty to remember
But a sorrow to forget

She took all that I gave her
'Til there was nothing left
Nothing left

Of owl and of raven
Of peacock and dove
Of swan and of sparrow
Woven with her love

Face hidden in shadow
Beneath a hood of quills
The fittings of her raiment
Conceal all her ills