Four grey walls and four grey towers
Overlook a space of flowers
And the Silent Isle embowers
The Lady of Shalott
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay
But a curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot

Tirra Lirra, Lirra Lye
Drifts through the barley over the rye
Calling to her up on high
The voice of Lancelot

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year
Shadows of the world appear
Winding down to Camelot
Or when the moon was overhead
Came two young lovers lately wed
“I am half sick of shadows,” said
The Lady of Shalott.

Tirra Lirra, Lirra Lye
Drifts through the barley over the rye
Calling to her up on high
The voice of Lancelot
Out flew the web and floated wide
The mirror crashed from side to side
“The curse has come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott

Along the river she floated by
Singing to her love goodbye
Tirra Lirra, Lirra Lye
The Lady of Shalott

Forever outside the walls of Camelot
There lies Lady of Shalott
A worded fragment time all but forgot
There lies Lady of Shalott

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