"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;