But her brow and her bosom were damp with affright,
Her eye was all sleepless and dim.
And the lady of Elderslie wept for her lord,
When a deathwatch beat in her lonely room,
When her curtain had shook of its own accord,
And the raven had flapped at her window board,
To tell of her warrior’s doom.
Now sing the death-song and loudly pray
For the soul of my knight so dear,
And call me a widow this wretched day,