4
It was her cruel Father then, Told her that I abroad was slain.
Which grieved this maiden’s heart full sore, To think that we should ne’er meet more, This caus'd her weep most bitterly, Those tidings from high Germany.
O daughter dear thy tears refrain, To weep for him is all in vain, I have a better match for thee, To enjoy the lands of Banaphie.
He was the husband of my youth, In pledge he had my faith and troth, I made a vow I’ll wed with none, Since my true love is dead and gone.
On ev’ry finger she put a ring, On her mid-finger she put three, And she’s away to high Germany, In hopes her true love for to see.
O she’s put on her robes of green, Which was most lovely to be seen, O had he been a crowned king, This fair lady might been his queen.
