Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.


Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be thrown.
Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there!