In the summer and her pinafore   She thought she'd love for ever more   How soon things sour   Past the bewitching hour she finds   Herself in Winter deep inside her coat   The past is just an anecdote   She can't forget for it's her alphabet of time      Will there be a war   Will she die or will she know   And find the pain of youth still shows?   Like Mary Tyler-Moore   She stares across the yawning tide   Out of love and terrified      In the Sunday colour magazine   She reads a line and then she dreams   Of what she'll do   When she leaves you again   She knows that home was once a wild unknown   As always her own chaperone   Catch the bus from wilderness or to      Hold on tight, catch that bus   Fares please, ding ding ding