I was the madcap Queen of May

Daughter of the wild, wild rose,

I was the hare, the fallow deer

Upon the heath, the flight of crows.

 

I was the child of summer’s day

I was the child of blackthorn spring

I was the child of autumn moon

I was the child of Winter King.

 

And you gave me a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

A pocketful of promises, a crown of summer rose

And you gave me a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

And you gave me a pocketful, a pocketful of crows

 

You were the son of noblemen

Your line, my love, was old and proud

You wore the crest of your father’s kin

You had a name, and you spoke it loud.

 

Mine was the colour of the dawn

Mine was the sound of falling snow

Mine was the dance of circling stars

A name that you could never know.

And you gave me a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

A pocketful of promises, a crown of summer rose

And you gave me a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

And you gave me a pocketful, a pocketful of crows.

 

And so you named and bound me fast

In love, you said, love that would last

As long as you drew breath, you said

A love as strong as Death, you said.

 

Your love it lasted till the rose

Had dropped its petals, one-by-one.

It lasted with the cuckoo’s song

It lasted almost summerlong.

 

And you gave me a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

A pocketful of promises, a crown of summer rose

And you gave me a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

And you gave me a pocketful, a pocketful of crows.

 

And then you found another girl

With hair like silk and skin like pearl

You gave her peaches, ripe and sweet

You laid your fortune at her feet.

 

And so I said: “Take back my name

Let me be wild and free once more.”

But I could not give back my name

Until the world was free of yours.

 

And so I took a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

A pocketful of vengeance, a crown of thorn and rose

And I gave you a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

And I gave you a pocketful, a pocketful of crows.

 

And then I danced upon the green

Around the winter hawthorn tree

And I became the Carrion Queen

Alive, and merciless, and free

 

And then I went into the sky

And in a snowy owl, I flew

And ate the hearts of faithless men

Of faithless men, my love, like you.

 

And I gave you a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

And I gave you a pocketful, a pocketful of crows

And I gave you a pocketful, a pocketful, a pocketful

And I gave you a pocketful, a pocketful of crows.