Now the rose is fled frae her downy cheek,
An’ wan is her lily-white hand,
An’ her bonnie blue e’e the tear doth dim,
For her knight in the Holy Land.
His banner it is the Holy Cross,
But it gars her greet fu’ sair,
As she meekly kneels and his lo’ed name breathes
At Our Mother’s shrine in prayer.
“O, hae ye a care, sweet Mother fair,
O’er the lion-hearted king,