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.