Chris Dell - Feste's Song 2 - текст песни (слова)

Come away, come away, death, 
 and in sad cypress let me be laid. 
 Fly away, breath; 
 I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
 My shroud of white, stuck all with yew. 
 Oh, prepare it! 
 My part of death, no one so true 
 did share it. 
 
 Not a flower, not a flower sweet, 
 On my black coffin let there be strown; 
 Not a friend, not a friend greet 
 my poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. 
 A thousand, thousand sighs to save, 
 Lay me, O, where 
 sad true lover never find my grave 
 to weep there!