With roses red they crowned her head -
Bright was the sun on the city wall! -
But the light hath fled, and the day is dead,
And the rose-leaves all are witherèd -
Oh, for the sun on the city wall! -
Then tell me, I pray, ye gallants gay,
As ye climb the castle stair,
If your lord should chance to ride this way -
Ah, tell me, ye ladies fair! -
If your lord should chance to ride this way,
Would he list to a poor maid's prayer?
Alack, alack! could he give her back
A heart that is prisoned there?
MIDI File
