Letra de His First Object de Nits

(Peters)
Girl you look so pale you need a holiday
Why not take a break in the Scottish hills
This turned out to be a very bad advice
That I [do?] regret and always will
Took you to St Pancras and supplied the fare
You took my arm and smiled at me
How was I to know this would be the very last time
THat we were together you and me
It seems like yesterday
The day you [went?] away <- I suggest : passed
Somehow you couldn't stay
Royal Scot was running up the Western route
At eighty miles an hour or even more
When it left the rails at the points near Harrow Town
More than a hundred killed was the tragic score