A bewitching song about a young woman who, to win the hand of a handsome knight, does her rival sister in. The dead girl then comes back to haunt the �black-haired bride� as a harp fashioned from her breast bone and three locks of her hair. �Cruel� may seem too kindly a description of a girl who when her sister pleads, �Oh Sister, Sister, let me live, and all that�s mine I�ll surely give� says, �It�s your own true love I have and more, but thou shalt never come ashore� before abandoning her body to the rough North Sea. Cruel? Should the sister therefore be scalded for her little� transgression? She�s an evil and monstrous sister, surely? But then this is centuries past, a time when sibling murder and human harps were commonplace. I am not likely to understand in this more civilised 21st century. Which may be why the kids don�t really dig British folk music anymore, or the mighty Pentangle. And it�s a crying shame because this is a stunning track, hauntingly sung by Jacqui McShee. I hesitate to use the term �masterpiece� in case that great oracle of musicaltaste.com, fmars, overhears and tells me that I�m wrong.