Poor, Poor Lenore

Poor, poor Lenore

Carried off by crows

As she wandered alone

Where the red oaks grow



Black, black were their beaks

Twisted in her hair

And black were their wings

Whipping up through the air



Fly, fly into the breeze

Lenore and the crows

To the top of a dead tree

Where the heartbroken go



Love, she fell in love

With a gravedigger's son

Who was thin as the bow

Of his black violin



Kiss, he kissed so hard

Her mouth filled with blood

But he left her to cry

Where the red oaks die



Fly, fly into the breeze

Lenore and the crows

To the top of a dead tree

Where the heartbroken go