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Song title:
Old Funeral - Alone Walking
Edit By:
216.73.216.79
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.
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