It was just before the moon hung

Her weary heavy head in

The gallows and the graves of

The milky milky cradle

His tears have turned to poppies

shimmer in the midnight

flower in the twilight

flower in the twilight

And our screaming

Is in his screaming

Our screaming in the willow

They took him to the gallows

He fought them all the way though

And when they asked us how we knew his name

We died just before him

Our eyes are in the flowers

Our hands are in the branches

Our voices in the breezes

And our screaming

Is in his screaming

Our screaming in the willow tree

We're waiting by the willow

Our milky milky cradle

Our lockets long [bad word] 
His picture worn and weathered

Our hair is in the garden

The roses in our toeses

Our heart are in the blossoms

Our eyes are in the branches

And our screaming

Is in his screaming

Our screaming in the willow tree