"IT WAS ALL IN THE BLACK COUNTREE"
It was all in the Black Countree,
What time the sweet o' the year should be,
I saw a tree, all gaunt and grey,
As mindful of a winter's day:
And that a lonely bird did sit
Upon the topmost branch of it,
Who to my thought did sweeter sing
Than any minstrel of a king.
What time the sweet o' the year should be,
I saw a tree, all gaunt and grey,
As mindful of a winter's day:
And that a lonely bird did sit
Upon the topmost branch of it,
Who to my thought did sweeter sing
Than any minstrel of a king.