She's doen her to the Jew's castell,45
Where a' were fast asleep;
"Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,
I pray you to me speak."
She's doen her to the Jew's garden,
Thought he had been gathering fruit;50
"Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,
I pray you to me speak."
She near'd Our Lady's deep draw-well,
Was fifty fathom deep;
"Whare'er ye be, my sweet Sir Hugh,55
I pray you to me speak."
"Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear;
Prepare my winding sheet;
And, at the back o' merry Lincoln,
The morn I will you meet."60
Now Lady Maisry is gane hame;
Made him a winding sheet;
And, at the back o' merry Lincoln,
The dead corpse did her meet.
And a' the bells o' merry Lincoln,65
Without men's hands were rung;
And a' the books o' merry Lincoln,
Were read without man's tongue;
And ne'er was such a burial
Sin Adam's days begun.70