Am
Of Lancelot du Lake
Em
tell i no more
But this by leave
Am Em
these ermytes seven.
Am
But still Kynge Arthur
Em
lieth there, and Quene Guenever,
Am Em
As I you newyn.
Am
And Monkes
Em
That are right of lore
Am Em
Who synge with moulded stewyn
Am Em
Ihesu, who hath woundes sore,
Dm Em
Grant us the blyss of Heaven.
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