Through Laurels
He's going to war, don't know when he'll return
He'll return on Easter or on Trinity
Trinity is over, but he's not returning
She, to her tower climbs, so high she can't go up
She notices her page all dressed in black
Pretty page, oh my pretty page, what news are you bringing?
She notices her page all dressed in black
Pretty page, oh my pretty page, what news are you bringing?
To the news I'm bringing, your pretty eyes will cry
Quit your pink outfit and your bound satins
He's dead Madam, dead and buried
I saw him getting buried by four officers
One held his armor and another his destrier
Around his tomb, we planted rosemary
On the highest branch a nightingale sang
We saw his soul flying through the laurels
Everyone put his stomach on the ground and then got up
To sing the victories he achieved
The ceremony over, everyone laid down again...
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