Near Woodstock Town in Oxfordshire,
As I walked forth to take the air,
To view the fields and meadows round,
Methought I heard a mournful sound.

Down by a crystal riverside,
A gallant bower I espied,
Where a fair lady made great moan,
With many a bitter sigh and groan.

Alas, quothe she, my love's unkind,
My sighs and tears he will not mind!
Soon after he had gain'd my heart,
He cruelly from me did part.

The lady round the meadow ran,
And gathered flowers as they sprang;
Of every sort she there did pull,
Until she got her apron full.

The green turf served her as a bed,
And flowers a pillow for her head;
She laid her down and nothing spoke,
Alas! for love her heart was broke.