So he he rode and he rode on his milk-white horse
Tell he came to London town;
And there he heard St. Pancras' bell toll:
And the people all mourning round, &c.
Oh what is the matter? Lord Lovel he said,
Oh what is the matter? said he
A Lord's lady is dead, the women replied
And some call her lady Nancy-ey-ey, &c.
So he ordered the grave to be opened wide
And the shrowd he turned down.
And there he kissed her clay cold lips,
Till the tears came trickling down,
Lady Nancy she died as it might be to-day,
Lord Lovel he died as to morrow:
Lady Nancy she died out of pure pure grief,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow, &c.
Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras church yard,
Lord Lovel was laid is the choir,
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of her lover's a briar-riar, &c.
It grew and it grew to the church steeple top
And then it could grow no higher,
So then it entwined in a true lover's knot,
For all true lovers to admire, -rier, rier, &c.
THE END.
