This is Isaiah 5:1-7, re-written in the style of an English folk song. You could set it to a tune, it would want to be something mournful and lamenting.

Extract from the poem:

My beloved had a vineyard, on a pleasant hill and fine.
He dug it and he cleared it and he planted it with vines.
Fol-de-rol-de-dally-o, he planted it with vines.

And then he built a tower, a structure strong and fine,
and dug a vat within it, to make himself some wine.
Fol-de-rol-de-dally-o, to make himself some wine.

When harvest came, he tasted them, but far from being sweet,
the grapes were bitter, sour, and wild and were not fit to eat.
Fol-de-rol-de-dally-o, they were not fit to eat.

So people of Jerusalem, and men of Judah, too,
how shall my lover treat those vines, what should my lover do?
Fol-de-rol-de-dally-o, what should my lover do?

He tended them with loving care, gave everything he could.
But still the vines went wild and gave back grapes that were not good.
Fol-de-rol-de-dally-o, grapes that were not good...


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