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 tree