Classic Poem

To the tune of Ar byd y nos.

Here beneath this willow sleepeth
Poor Mary Anne,....
One whom all the village weepeth;
Poor Mary Anne!
He she loved her passion slighted,
Breaking all the vows he'd plighted;
Therefore life no more delighted
Poor Mary Anne.

Pale thy cheek grew, where thy lover,
Poor Mary Anne,
Once could winning charms discover;....
Poor Mary Anne!
Dim those eyes, so sweetly speaking
When true love's expression seeking;....
Oh! we saw thy heart was breaking,
Poor Mary Anne!

Like a rose we saw thee wither,
Poor Mary Anne!....
Soon, a corpse, we brought thee hither,
Poor Mary Anne!
Now, our evening pastime flying,
We, in heartfelt sorrow vying,
Seek this willow,....softly sighing
" Poor Mary Anne!"