Slow at the garage dance / Slow no baile da garagem — A Whiter Shade of Pale / Um Tom Mais Pálido

We skipped the light fandango

Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor

I was feeling kinda seasick

The crowd called out for more

The room was humming harder

As the ceiling flew away

When we called out for another drink

The waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later

As the miller told his tale

That her face, at first just ghostly

Turned a whiter shade of pale

She said "there is no reason"

And the truth is plain to see

But I wandered through my playing cards

Would not let her be

One of sixteen vestal virgins

Who were leaving for the coast

And although my eyes were open

They might have just as well've been closed

And so it was that later

As the miller told his tale

That her face, at first just ghostly

Turned a whiter shade of pale

And so it was that later

Keith Reid