THREE RAVENS
(trad)

There were three ravens in a tree,

they were as black as black might be.

One of them turns to his mate

where shall we our breakfast take.

Down in yonder green field

There lies a knight slain ‘neath his shield,

His hounds they lie down at his feet

So well do they their master keep.

His hawks they fly so eagerly,

No other fowl dare come near he.

Look here comes a fallow doe

As great with young as she might go.

She lifted up his bloody head,

And kissed his wounds that were so red.

She’s got him up upon his back

And carried him to earthen lake.

She buried him before his time,

She’s dead herself in a songs time.

God wish every gentleman

Such hawks, such hounds and such a love.