lirik lagu mediæval bæbes - under the willow tree
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here upon my true love’s grave
shall the barren flowers be laid;
not one holy saint to save
all the celness of a maid
black his hair as winter’s night
white he rode as summer snow
red his face as morning light;
cold he lies below
my love is dead
gone to his death~bed
under the willow~tree
come, with acorn~cup and th~rne
drain my hartys blood away;
life and all its good i scorn
dance by night, or feast by day
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
my love is dead
gone to his death~bed
under the willow~tree
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