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Fair Rosamond, Fair Rosamond,
her name was called so,
To whom dame Eleanor our Queen,
was known a deadly foe.
The king therefore, for her defence,
against the furious queen,
At Woodstock builded such a bower,
the like was never seen.
Most curiously that bower was built,
of stone and timber strong,
An hundred and fifty doors,
did to this bower belong.
And they so cunningly contriv'd
with turnings round about,
That none without a clue or thread,
could enter in or out.
Now for his love and lady's sake,
who was both fair and bright,
The keeping of this bower he gave,
unto a valiant Knight.
But fortune that does often frown,
where it before did smile,
The king's delight, the lady's joy,
full soon she did beguile.
For why, the king's ungracious son,
whom he did high advance,
Against his father raised wars,
within the realms of France.
But yet before our gracious king,
the English land forsook,
Of Rosamond his lady fair,
his last farewel he took.
