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I saw a maiden by the riverside |
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Waiting for her lover to come a-riding by |
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She dressed her hair with a golden comb |
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Love, it seemed, had gained the throne |
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And then he killed her |
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Struck once, then twice |
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And then he killed her |
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With his knife |
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From stately mansion to the lowest slum |
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Love and death beat their drums |
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Lovers touch and lovers sigh |
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Lovers part and lovers cry |
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And then he killed her |
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Struck once, then twice |
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And then he killed her |
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With his knife |
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How easily love's vine is spilt |
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How easily love's vine does wilt |
