As
I
was
walking
all
alone
I
heard
two
ravens
making
a
moan;
The
one
unto
the
other
did
say,
“Where
shall
we
go
and
dine
today?”
“In
behind
yon
old
turf
dike
I
know
there
lies
a
new‐slain
knight;
And
nobody
knows
that
he
lies
there
But
his
hawk,
his
hound,
and
his
lady
fair.
“His
hound
is
to
the
hunting
gone,
His
hawk
to
fetch
the
wild‐fowl
home,
His
lady’s
taken
another
mate,
So
we
may
make
our
dinner
sweet.
“You’ll
sit
on
his
white
neck‐bone,
And
I’ll
pick
out
his
bonny
blue
eyes;
With
one
lock
of
his
golden
hair
We’ll
thatch
our
nest
when
it
grows
bare.
“Many
a
one
for
him
makes
moan,
But
none
shall
know
where
he
is
gone;
O’er
his
white
bones,
when
they
are
bare,
The
wind
shall
blow
forevermore.”