And with the same took her life away.
When from my labour I did return,
To do her harm my heart did burn,
I took the gun right speedily,
But little thinking she was to die.
Though fellow-servants I did not her like,
That was the reason I took her life,
That was the reason I did her kill,
Maidens never marry against their will.
My bosom heaves and borne down with woe,