The lad who went to Flanders
Otterburn, Otterburn
The lad who went to Flanders,
And never will return
Though low he lies in Flanders,
Beneath the Flemish mud,
He hears through all his dreaming
The Otterburn in flood.
And though there be in Flanders
No clear and singing streams,
The Otterburn runs singing
Of summer through his dreams.
And when peace comes to Flanders,
Because it comes too late,
He'll still lie there, and listen
To the Otterburn in spate
The lad who went to Flanders
Otterburn, Otterburn
The lad who went to Flanders,
And never will return.
Otterburn, Otterburn
The lad who went to Flanders,
And never will return
Though low he lies in Flanders,
Beneath the Flemish mud,
He hears through all his dreaming
The Otterburn in flood.
And though there be in Flanders
No clear and singing streams,
The Otterburn runs singing
Of summer through his dreams.
And when peace comes to Flanders,
Because it comes too late,
He'll still lie there, and listen
To the Otterburn in spate
The lad who went to Flanders
Otterburn, Otterburn
The lad who went to Flanders,
And never will return.
×
![]()
Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.
