She spread her cloak down on the earth,
And on it to two little twins gave birth.
She laid them under a turf so green,
Nor suffered for them a sorrow unseen.
She laid them under so broad a stone,
Suffered sorrow nor harm for what she had done.
Eight years it was, and the children twain
Would fain go home to their mother again.
They went and before Our Lord they stood:
'Might we go home to our mother, we would.'
'Ye may go to your mother, if ye will,
But ye may not contrive any ill.'
They knocked at the door, they made no din:
'Rise up, our mother, and let us in.'
By life and by death hath she cursed and sworn,
That never a child in the world had she borne.
'Stop, stop, dear mother, and swear not so fast,
We shall recount to you what has passed.
'You took with you the bower-women five,
And with them went to the wood belive.