As Dawn's first rays cross the green field they shine in open eyes lying still From the boughs of the oak tree three ravens wait over his cold bones lying as they are The wind will moan forevermore They'll perch on his backbone beneath the morning sun peck out his eyes one by one His hounds they lie at his feet so well they will their master keep His hawks they circle the air all through the day No raven would dare come near all through the day She sits quiet and still by his side Gently closes her lover's eyes She buried him before his prime was dead herself before even song time God grant each man his rightful share such hawks, such hounds, such ladies fair.