All shivering and chill at your castle gate I stand.
The rain rains on my yellow locks, the dew has wet my skin;
My babe lies cold within my arms; Lord Gregory, let me in.
Oh, the night is far too murky, and the hour is far too late,
To open for a stranger Lord Gregory’s castle gate.
Oh, and don’t you remember one night on yonder hill,
When we changed rings together, sore, sore against my will?
Mine was of pure gold, and yours was but of tin;
Mine was true to the heart, yours false and hollow within.
The rain rains on my yellow locks, the dew has wet my skin;