| |
| O SING unto my roundelay! | |
| O, drop the briny tear with me! | |
| Dance no more at holiday; | |
| Like a running river be. | |
| My love is dead, | 5 |
| Gone to his death-bed, | |
| All under the willow-tree. | |
| |
| Black his hair as the winter night, | |
| White his neck as the summer snow, | |
| Ruddy his face as the morning light; | 10 |
Cold he lies in the grave below.
My love is dead, etc. | |
| |
| Sweet his tongue as the throstle’s note; | |
| Quick in dance as thought can be; | |
| Deft his tabor, cudgel stout; | |
O, lie lies by the willow-tree!
My love is dead, etc. | 15 |
| |
| Hark! the raven flaps his wing | |
| In the briered dell below; | |
| Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing | |
To the nightmares as they go.
My love is dead, etc. | |
| |
| See! the white moon shines on high; | 20 |
| Whiter is my-true-love’s shroud, | |
| Whiter than the morning sky, | |
Whiter than the evening cloud.
My love is dead, etc. | |
| |
| Here, upon my true-love’s grave | |
| Shall the barren flowers be laid, | 25 |
| Nor one holy saint to save | |
All the coldness of a maid.
My love is dead, etc. | |
| |
| With my hands I ’ll bind the briers | |
| Round his holy corse to gre; | |
| Ouphant fairy, light your fires; | 30 |
Here my body still shall be.
My love is dead, etc. | |
| |
| Come, with acorn-cup and thorn, | |
| Drain my heart’s blood away; | |
| Life and all its good I scorn, | |
Dance by night, or feast by day.
My love is dead, etc. | 35 |
| |
| Water-witches, crowned with reytes, | |
| Bear me to your lethal tide. | |
| I die! I come! my true-love waits…. | |
| Thus the damsel spake, and died. | |
| |
