"For comforted will I never be:
"I ween 'twas neither knave nor lown
"Was in the bower last night wi' me."
The clinking bell gaed through the town,
To carry the dead corse to the clay;
And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret's window,
I wot, an hour before the day.
"Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says,
"Or are ye waking presentlie?
"Give me my faith and troth again,