it was just before the moon hung

her weary, heavy hating

the gallows and the graves hold

the milky, milky cradle

his tears have turned to poppies

a shimmer in the midnight

a flower in the twilight

and her screaming,is in his screaming

her screaming in the willow

they took him to the gallows

he fought them all the way though

and when they asked us how we knew his name

we died just before him

her eyes are in the flowers

her hands are in the branches

her voice is in the breezes

and her screaming

is in his screaming

her screaming in the willow tree

we're waiting by the willow

her milky, milky cradle

her lock it's long and roasted

his picture worn and weathered

her hair is in the garden

her roses in the toeses

her rules are in the blossoms

her eyes are in the branches

and her screaming

is in his screaming

her screaming in the willow tree

and her screaming

her screaming in the willow