A little black thing among the snow,Crying "'weep! 'weep!" in notes of woe!"Where are thy father and mother, say?""They are both gone up to the church to pray."Because I was happy upon the heath,And smiled among the winter's snow,They clothed me in the clothes of death,And taught me to sing the notes of woe."And because I am happy and dance and sing,They think they have done me no injury,And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King,Who make up a heaven of our misery."