Silk story.

If I were to wish upon a star,
And an anarch’s bow to find me here
I’d seek for this one tender grace,
An antidote for retrieved fear;
Tell that fairy Jest,
The cunning Puck,
That Cupid's darts have found their mark,
In hardened heart have struck me thrice,
And bled a ballad out of a heart that's dark:

No Cackler's art's will find me where,
The forest devours wolf, fowl or bear;
A tarnished, polished, sobered sprite,
I once loved in daylight,
Now, I watch at night...
Over all that's fair, lest any Lord shall wait,
And stare too long,
Lest any Jest shall harm her,
Lest a zeal-less coward shall raise a violent arm at her.

For from whence my love did sprout,
I surely cannot tell
For all the loves of Cambridgeshire,
From Lore and Lord’s counted
A marriage,
I did denounce it,
For her, a thousand deaths I ought,
So my penniless purse turned penniless soul can taut,
Pull my featureless face to watch her... rich

See, I lay not where the bodies be...
And a heedless man would be found, dead with me
If e'er he stuck and found his mark
his death would forfeit custody,
And down, down, see his spirited song;
Oh for justice, he'd sing on!
For I lay not where the bodies be,

I trace the skies,
She comforts me...

I lay not where the tortured scream,
I wished on a star many moons in night, a dream

I lay not where the bodies be,
And hidden things are known to me.