When she was got her love behind,
They passed as swift as any wind,
That in two hours, or little more,
He brought her to her father's door.
But as they did this great haste make,
He did complain his head did ache;
Her handkerchief she then took out,
And tied the same his head about.
And unto him she thus did say:
'Thou art as cold as any clay,
When we come home a fire we'll have;'
But little dreamed he went to grave.
Soon were they at her father's door,
And after she ne'er saw him more;
'I'll set the horse up,' then he said,
And there he left this harmless maid.
She knocked, and straight a man he cried,
'Who's there?' ''Tis I,' she then replied;
Who wondered much her voice to hear,
And was possest with dread and fear.
Her father he did tell, and then
He stared like an affrighted man:
Down stairs he ran, and when he see her,
Cried out, 'My child, how cam'st thou here?'
'Pray, sir, did you not send for me
By such a messenger?' said she:
Which made his hair stand on his head,
As knowing well that he was dead.
'Where is he?' then to her he said;
'He's in the stable,' quoth the maid.
'Go in,' said he, 'and go to bed;
I'll see the horse well littered.'
He stared about, and there could he
No shape of any mankind see,
But found his horse all on a sweat;
Which made him in a deadly fret.
His daughter he said nothing to,
Nor none else, (though full well they knew
That he was dead a month before,)
For fear of grieving her full sore.