Them Bird Things Roundelay

Tekst piosenki

O SING unto my roundelay
O drop the briny tear with me;
Dance no more at holyday
Like a running river be:
My love is dead
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree

Sweet his tongue as the throstle’s note
Quick in dance as thought can be
Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;
O he lies by the willow-tree!
My love is dead
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree

Hark! the raven flaps his wing
In the brier’d dell below;
Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing
To the nightmares, as they go:
My love is dead
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree

See! the white moon shines on high;
Whiter is my true-love’s shroud:
Whiter than the morning sky
Whiter than the evening cloud:
My love is dead
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree