Old Funeral - Alone Walking

Текст песни

Alone walking, in thought plaining
And sore sighing, all desolate
Me remembring, of my living
My death wishing, both early and late
Infortunate, is so my fate
That vote ye what? Out of measure
My life I hate, thus desperate
In soche pore eslate though I endure
Of other cure am I not sure
Thus to endure is hard, certain
Such is my cure I you ensure:
What creature may have more pain?
My truth so plain is taken in vain
And great disdain in remembrence;
Yet i full faine would me complain
Me to abstaine from this penence;
But in substaunce none Allegiance
Of my grevaunce can I not find:
Right so my chance with Displesance
Doeth me avance and thus an ende