Lullaby! Lullaby! There's a tower strong and high Built of oak and brick and stone, Stands before a wood alone. The doors are of the oak so brown As any ale in Oxford town, The walls are builded warm and thick Of the old red Roman brick, The good grey stone is over all In arch and floor of the tower tall. And maidens three are living there All in the upper chamber fair, Hung with silver, hung with pall, And stories painted on the wall. And softly goes the whirring loom In my ladies' upper room, For they shall spin both night and day Until the stars do pass away. But every night at evening. The window open wide they fling, And one of them says a word they know And out as three white swans they go, And the murmuring of the woods is drowned In the soft wings' whirring sound, As they go flying round, around, Singing in swans' voices high A lonely, lovely lullaby.
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