For she, for my sad sake, would keep
This guilty bridal dress,
To break and tell her bursting heart
She had a daughter less."

So off she threw her bridal gown,
Likewise her gold clasped shoon:
His looks frowned hard as any stone,
Hers pale turned as the moon.

"O false, false knight you've wrapped me warm
Ere I was cold before,
And now you strip me unto death,
Although I'm out of door.

O dash away those thistles rude,
That crowd about the shore;
They'll wound my tender feet, that ne'er
Went barefoot thus before.

O dash those stinging nettles down,
And cut away the brier,
For deep they wound those lily arms
Which you did once admire."

And he nor briers nor thistles cut,
Although she grieved full sore,
And he nor shed one single tear,
Nor kiss took evermore.