Within the fire. And out upon the sea. Crazy man Michael was walking. He met with a raven. With eyes black as coal. And shortly they were talking. â€œyour future your future. I will tell to you. Your future. You often have asked me. Your true love will die. By your own right hand. And crazy man Michael. Will cursed beâ€. Michael he ranted. And Michael he raved. And he beat at the four winds. With his fists-o. He laughed and he cried. He shouted and he swore. For his mad mind. Entrapped him with a fist-hold. â€œyou speak with an evil. You speak with a hate. You speak for the devil. That haunts me. For is she not the fairest. In all the broad land?. Your sorcererâ€™s words. Are to taunt meâ€. He took out his dagger. Of fine and broad steel. And he struck down the raven. Through the heart-o. The bird fluttered long. And the sky it did spin. And this cold earth did. Wander â€˜round startled. Oh where is the raven. That I struck down dead. And here did lye. On the ground-o?. I see my true love. With a wound so red. Where her loverâ€™s heart. It did pound-o. Crazy man Michael. He wanders Iâ€™m told. And he talks through. The night and the day-o. But his eyes they are sane. And his speech is plain. But he longs to be far away-o. Michael he whistles. The simplest of tunes. As he asks of the wild wolves. Their pardon. But his true love has flown. Into every flower grown. And he must be keeper. Of the garden.