My silks and fine array
My smiles and languish'd air
By love are driv'n away
And mournful lean despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave
Such end true lovers have
His face is fair as heaven
When springing buds unfold
O why to him was't given
Whose heart is wintry cold wintry cold
Bring me an axe and spade
Bring me a winding sheet
When I my grave have made
Let winds and tempests beat
Then down down I lay cold cold as clay
True love doth pass away
