Day,
When he sang to the queen on his willow
spray—
O dearie, the honey-sweet song he knew!
At her palace window the queen would stay
So pinky and fair with her curly gold hair;
She merrily rocked in a crystal chair,
And never a queen was half so gay.
You want the queen in her palace of snow,
And the ruby-eyed thrush, the silver-tailed