TO THE TUNE OF WALSINGHAM
There is an old-time lovers' song
Of a lost love and untrue,
And one that sought her all along
And in dark and in dew.
And all the world where he should rove
The winding of his way,
He asked them of his false love,
Was she glad, was she gay.
I never heard what man he was
Nor her name that he sought;
Four hundred years is long to pass,
So I said, so I thought.
But yesterday at twilight
Quite quiet as I came,
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