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 lover’s heart
It did pound-o
Crazy man Michael
He wanders ALONE
And he talks TO
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 WOODS
Their pardon
But his true love has flown
Into every flower grown
And he must be keeper
Of the garden

The link is in the next comment to Natalie Merchant's (one of my favorite artist's) version of the song, click on replay.

http://artofemotion.imeem.com/music/hTsW6TFr/natalie_merchant_crazy_man_michael/

Sounds like Edgar Allen Poe is alive and well.

Actually,
That did remind me on Poe, cabanaben! Thanks!