And lofty roof adorning.
And now the Bride was sore afraid,
She sigh’d, and cross’d her breast;
She kiss’d her simple rosary,
Made of the mountain holly-tree,
By sainted Fathers blest.
She kiss’d it once, she kiss’d it twice;
It seem’d to freeze her breast;
The cold show’rs fell from ev’ry tree,
They fell upon her rosary