When the shrill winds are screaming And the evening is still Lady Samantha glides over the hill In a long satin dress that she wears every day Her home is the hillside, her bed is the grave Lady Samantha glides like a tiger Over the hills with no one beside her No one comes near They all live in fear But Lady Samantha, she sheds only tears The tales that I told round the fire every night Are out of proportion and none of them right She is harmless and empty of anything bad For she once had som