Where has my love gone with his cheeks like roses?
He has gone across the fields, gathering primroses.
I'm afraid the shining sun might burn his beauty,
and if I were with my love I would do my duty.
Strange news has come to town, strange news is carried:
strange news flies up and down that my love is married.
I wish them both much joy, though they don't hear me;
I will never die for love, young men believe me.
"What did you promise me when you lay beside me?
You said you'd marry me and not deny me."
"If I said I'd marry you, 'twas but to try you,
so bring your witness nigh, and I'll not deny you."
"Witness have I none, save God Almighty,
and may He reward you well for the slighting of me."
Then her lips grew pale and wan; it made her poor heart tremble
to think she loved but one, and he proved deceitful.