La Belle Dame Sans Merci (John Keats, 1819)

Britpop, British accent, jangly, wistful, male vocals, lo-fi, earnest, catchy

May 23rd, 2024suno

가사

[Hook] [Break] [Verse 1] O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing. [Verse 2] O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel’s granary is full, And the harvest’s done. [Solo] [Verse 3] I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever-dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too. [Verse 4] I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful—a faery’s child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild. [Solo] [Verse 5] I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan. [Verse 6] I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery’s song. [Solo] [Verse 7] She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna-dew, And sure in language strange she said— I love thee true. [Verse 8] She took me to her Elfin grot, And there she wept and sighed full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. [Solo] [Verse 8] She took me to her Elfin grot, And there she wept and sighed full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. [Instrumental chorus] [Verse 9] And there she lullèd me asleep, And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!— The latest dream I ever dreamt On the cold hill side. [Verse 10] I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci Thee hath in thrall!’ [Solo] [Verse 10] I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—La Belle Dame sans Merci Thee hath in thrall! [Solo] [Verse 11] I saw their starved lips in the gloam, With horrid warning gapèd wide, And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hill’s side. [Verse 12] And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing. [Solo] [Coda] [Solo] [Solo] [Coda] [End]

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