Lord Lovel was laid in the choir;
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of her lover’s a briar.
10.
10.1 Perhaps a misprint for ‘church-steeple top.’—Child.
They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too,
And then they could grow no higher;
So there they entwined in a true-lovers’ knot,
For all lovers true to admire.