| |
| LORD LOVEL he stood at his castle gate, | |
| Combing his milk-white steed; | |
| When up came Lady Nancy Belle, | |
| To wish her lover good speed, speed, | |
| To wish her lover good speed. | 5 |
| |
| “Where are you going, Lord Lovel?” she said, | |
| “Oh! where are you going?” said she; | |
| “I ’m going, my Lady Nancy Belle, | |
| Strange countries for to see, to see, | |
| Strange countries for to see.” | 10 |
| |
| “When will you be back, Lord Lovel?” said she: | |
| “O! when will you come back?” said she; | |
| “In a year or two—or three, at the most, | |
| I ’ll return to my fair Nancy-cy, | |
| I ’ll return to my fair Nancy.” | 15 |
| |
| But he had not been gone a year and a day, | |
| Strange countries for to see, | |
| When languishing thoughts came into his head, | |
| Lady Nancy Belle he would go see, see, | |
| Lady Nancy Belle he would go see. | 20 |
| |
| So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed, | |
| Till he came to London town, | |
| And there he heard St. Pancras’ bells, | |
| And the people all mourning, round, round, | |
| And the people all mourning round. | 25 |
| |
| “Oh, what is the matter,” Lord Lovel he said, | |
| “Oh! what is the matter?” said he; | |
| “A lord’s lady is dead,” a woman replied, | |
| “And some call her Lady Nancy-cy, | |
| And some call her Lady Nancy.” | 30 |
| |
| So he ordered the grave to be opened wide, | |
| And the shroud he turnèd down, | |
| And there he kissed her clay-cold lips, | |
| Till the tears came trickling down, down, | |
| Till the tears came trickling down. | 35 |
| |
| 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, sorrow, | |
| Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow. | 40 |
| |
| Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras’ church, | |
| Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; | |
| And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, | |
| And out of her lover’s a brier, brier, | |
| And out of her lover’s a brier. | 45 |
| |
| They grew, and they grew, to the church steeple top, | |
| And then they could grow no higher: | |
| So there they entwined in a true lover’s knot, | |
| For all lovers true to admire-mire, | |
| For all lovers true to admire. | 50 |
| |
