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With her respect in each degree,
Sign’d by the Lass of Banaphie.
The answer which to her I sent,
It never to my true love went;
Her cruel father told her then
That I abroad was surely slain.
Which griev’d this maiden’s heart full sore
To think that we should ne’er meet more,
This caus’d her weep most bitterly,
Those tidings from High Germany.
O daughter dear thy tears refrain,
To weep for him it is in vain,
I have a better match for thee,
To enjoy the lands of Banaphie.
He was the husband of my youth,
In pledge he had my faith and truth;
I’ve made a vow I’ll with none
Since my true love is dead and gone.
On ev’ry finger she put a ring,
On her mid finger she put three,
And she’s away to High Germany
In hopes her true love for to see.
