The Mystery Song

Not much away From that village, There strains a song, Breaking the silence of the night.

It comes from that cottage; That old and deserted one, Which they say, Is the haunted one.

Never had I heard, A nightingale sing better Or a cuckoo chirp, More sweeter.

I know not the dialect, Am ignorant of the theme; Or tis’ of joy, Or of tragedy.

Who sings it? No one knows, though many have tried. They say, it’s the ghost, Of a lady that dwelled there.

Whatever may be the cause, Whoever sings the song; It makes me to stand ‘n’ listen, For its melody touches me.

Not heard any more, As the world wakes; I move on, bearing it in my heart, Though, much of it remains, a mystery.