The c*ck shall crow lyrics
by Robert Louis Stevenson
The c*ck shall crow in the morning grey
The bugles blow at the break of day
The c*ck shall sing and the merry bugles ring;
And all the little brown birds sing upon the spray
The thorn shall blow in the month of May
My love shall go in her holiday array
But I shall like in the Kirkyard nigh
While all the little brown birds sing upon the spray