| Word is up to the king’s dear daughter
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| And word is spreading all over the land
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| That’s she’s been betrayed by her own dear brother
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| That he has chosen another fair hand
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| Many young man had a song of her beauty
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| And many a grand deed for her had been done
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| But within her sights she carried the child
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| Of her father’s youngest, fairest son
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| Tell to me no lies
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| Tell to me no stories
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| But saddle my good horse and I’ll go and see my own true love
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| If your words be true ones, then that will mean the end of me
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| Brother oh brother what lies be these ones
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| They say your love to another I lose
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| There’s a child within me of thy very own lineage
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| And I know it’s I that thou would chose
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| And have you yet told your father or mother
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| All that thou has told here to me
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| And he’s taken off his good braided sword
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| And I am down beside his knee
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| No I’ve not told no one but you my dear one
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| For it’s a secret between us two
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| And I would come home and quit all my roaming
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| And spend my days only waiting on you
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| Too late too late for change my sister
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| My father has chosen another fair bride
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| And he stabbed her easy and lovingly lay her
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| Down in her grave by the green wood side
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| And when he’s come home to his own wedding of feasting
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| And his father asks why he’s weeping all so
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| He says such a bride as a I’ve seen on this morning
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| Never another man shall know |