"O don't you see the little turtle-dove, 
That's sitting on yonder tree,
And making moan for its own true love,
As I shall do for thee, my dear,
As I shall do for thee?"

"O fare you well, my own true love,
O fare you well for a while;
And I will surely return back again,
If I go ten thousand a-mile, my dear,
If I go ten thousand a-mile."

"Shall the stars fall from the skies, my dear,
Or the rocks melt with the sun?
I will never be false to the girl of my heart,
Till all these things be done, my dear,
Till all these things be done."