Old Funeral - Alone Walking Lyrics
Alone walking, in thought plaining,And sore sighing, all desolateMe 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 desperateIn soche pore eslate though I endure.Of other cure am I not sureThus 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 complainMe to abstaine from this penence;But in substaunce none AllegianceOf my grevaunce can I not find:Right so my chance with DisplesanceDoeth me avance and thus an ende.