| I was angry with my friend
|
| I told my wrath, my wrath did end
|
| I was angry with my foe
|
| I told it not, my wrath did grow
|
| And I watered it in fears
|
| Night and morning with my tears
|
| And I sunned it with my smiles
|
| And with soft, deceitful wiles
|
| And sometimes I see magpie
|
| And it grew both day and night
|
| 'Til it bore an apple, bright
|
| And my foe beheld it shine
|
| And he knew that it was mine
|
| And into my garden, stole
|
| When the night had veiled the pole
|
| In the morning, glad, I see
|
| My foe outstretched beneath the tree
|
| And sometimes I see magpie
|
| And sometimes I see magpie
|
| I was angry with my friend
|
| I told my wrath, my wrath did end
|
| I was angry with my foe
|
| I told it not, my wrath did grow
|
| And I watered it in fears
|
| Night and morning with my tears
|
| And I sunned it with my smiles
|
| And with soft, deceitful wiles
|
| And sometimes I see magpie
|
| And sometimes I see magpie
|
| And sometimes I see magpie
|
| And sometimes I see magpie |