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,
These 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.
