When the sheep are in the fold, 
when the sleep of men is so sweet, 
I cry, alas! The sorrow of my life seems so near to me 
and also near to me sleeps my good old husband.
 
James loved me and for the prize of his constancy 
he had my heart, but James had nothing 
and embarked on a voyage in the hope 
that he could make his fortune and marry his love. 

After a year our cow was stolen, 
my father’s arm broken, 
my mother was sick and desolate,
and Robin Gray came to court me. 

Our bread was missing 
and Robin fed my unhappy parents. 
With a tear in his eye he said to me “Jeanette, 
marry me, at least for the love of them.” 

I said, “No, I breathe for James.”
“But his vessel perished at sea…”
And I lived, I live still to say: 
“Woe is me that I could not have died.”

My father spoke again of the marriage. 
Without speaking, my mother ordered me to do it. 
My poor heart was dead from the shipwreck, 
but my father still gave my hand. 

One month after, seated in front of my door, 
I saw James and thought my eyes were playing tricks. 
“It is me,” he said. “Why are you so surprised, 
my beloved, for I have returned to marry you.”

Ah, we wept together. 
A single kiss, followed by a long sigh 
was our farewell. We two repeated, 
“Woe is me that I could not have died.”

I no longer live. I dismiss from my soul 
the memory of a beloved so dear. 
I want to try to be a good woman to old Robin, 
for old Robin is such a good husband.