Poetry Archives

There were three ravens sat on a tree,
They were as black as they might be.

The one of them said to his make,
‘Where shall we our breakfast take?’

‘Down in yonder greene field
There lies a knight slain under his shield;

‘His hounds they lie down at his feet,
So well they can their master keep;

‘His hawks they flie so eagerly,
There ’s no fowl dare come him nigh.’

Down there comes a fallow doe
As great with young as she might goe.

She lift up his bloudy head
And kist his wounds that were so red.

She gat him up upon her back
And carried him to earthen lake.

She buried him before the prime,
She was dead herself ere evensong time.

God send every gentleman
Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman.