Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow, sorrow, sorrow,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.
Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras’ churchyard,
Lord Lovel was laid in the choir,
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of her lover’s a brier-rier, rier,
And out of her lover’s a brier.
It grew and it grew to the church steeple top,
And then it could grow no higher;