And strake fair Annet unto the heart,
That word spak never mair.
Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wax pale,
And marvelit what mote be:
Wame, womb.
But whan he saw her dear heart's blude,
A' wood-wroth wexed he.
He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,
That was sae sharp and meet,
And drave it into the nut-brown bride,