By the river Camelot, a tower stands tall
Where the Lady of Shalott weaves within her hall
Cursed to never gaze upon the world outside
Her fate is sealed, her life denied

Weaving her tapestry, day by day
Cursed to never look upon the world 
Trapped inside her tower, she must stay
Her gaze is fixed, her fate is unfurled

Oh the Lady of Shalott
Bound by a spell, her life forgot
Mirrored images, her only lot
Oh the Lady of Shalott

Sir Lancelot rides by, a dazzling sight
She glimpses him, her heart begins to race
Forsaking her loom, she steps into the light 
And walks towards her doom, with sorrow on her face

The curse has taken hold, her world starts to fade
Down to the river, her boat is made
Drifting away, her song is played

In the river she lies, pale and still
Lancelot gazes on, his heart does not thrill
"She has a lovely face," he says with a will
Oh the Lady of Shalott

Still do the Stars impart their Light
To those that travell in the Night;
Still Time runs on, nor doth the Hand
Or Shadow on the Diall stand;
The Streames still glide and constant are:
Only thy Mind
Untrue I find,
Which carelessly
Neglects to be
Like Stream, or Shadow, Hand, or Star.

Fool that I am; I do recall
My words, and swear thou'rt like them all:
Thou seemst like Stars to nourish fire,
But O how cold is thy desire?
And like the Hand upon the Brass,
Thou point'st at me
In mockery,
If I come nigh,
Shade-like thou'lt fly,
And as the Stream with Murmur pass.

Thrice didst thou vow, thrice didst thou swear,
Whisp'ring those Oaths into mine Eare,
And t'ween each one, as Seal of Bliss,
Didst interpose a sweeter kiss:
Alas that also came from Art,
For it did smell
So fresh and wel,
That I presume
'Twas thy Perfume
That made thee swear, and not thy Heart.

Tell me who taught thy subtile Eyes
To cheat true hearts with fallacies?
Who did instruct thy Sighs to Lie?
Who taught thy kisses Sophistry?
Believe't 'tis far from honest Rigour;
O how I loath
A tutor'd Oath!
I'll ne'r come nigh
A learned Sigh,
Nor credit Vows in Mood and Figure.

'Twas Venus to me whisper'd this,
Swear and embrace, protest and kiss,
Such Oaths and Vows are fickle things,
My wanton Son does lend them wings:
The kiss must stay, the Oath must fly:
Heav'n is the Schoole
That gives this Rule:
I cann't prove true
To that and you,
The Goddess is in fault, not I.

Who for any wrong would thus much do,
For my Revenge may something too;
She, O She make thee true to all,
Marry an Army, and then fall
Through scornfull Hatred and disdain:
But mayst thou be
Still false to me;
For if thy mind
Once more prove kind
Thou'lt swear thine Oathes all o'r again.