"And art thou gon, my sweet Alice?
And art thou gone?" hee cry'd:
"Ah woulde to heav'n that I with thee,
My faythful love, had dy'd!
"And have I loste thee, my sweet Alice?
And art thou dead and gon?
And at thy deare heade a green grass turfe,
And at thy foote a stone?
"The turfe that's o'er thy grave, deare Alice!
Sall with my teares bee wet;