---

Indeed it was written upon a day
Was it March or maybe May?
Amnon riding under pleasurable gong
With army ten thousand strong

Trumpets ring and horses leap
Beneath the trees on mountain steep
Absalom did not but groan
Hanging in the tree alone

He poor soul, all forlorn
Hair as if his crown of thorns
As he did relate his doleful song
Of how the world had done him wrong

The bird on high in a tree (Absalom)
No thing alive would pity me
Just fickle fate with rueful smile (Absalom)
Was all there was all the while
And if his fortune for once go down (Absalom)
Then farewell to his great renown
And they that fawned on him before (Absalom)
In his presence spend no more

And to hear him so complain
Indeed did make a sad refrain
His grief, indeed so plainly shown
Would make you think of your own

And did he only mourn in vain
No one to pity all his pain
No plant or tree cannot hear
No beast nor man to even cheer

And of all the friends who flattered he
Now no one in his misery
For words are easy like the wind
But faithful friends hard to find

For everyone will be your friends
If you have where-with to spend
But if your store of crowns be scant
No man will get you what you want

They will stamp you prodigal
Wasteful soul they will you call
With words so sweet and flattering
Too bad he's not a king

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.