John Fleagle‘s life was far too short. His versions of many earlier Anglo-Saxon songs were near perfection, in my opinion. Here he performs a haunting song of murder most foul.
Twa Corbies
As I was walking all alane,
I spied twa corbies makin a mane;
The tane unto the t’ither say,
“Whar sall we gang and dine the-day?”
“Whar sall we gang and dine the-day?”
“In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
Naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.
His hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.”
Song of the Isles 