Come, you whose loves are dead,
And whiles I sing,
Weep and wring
Ev'ry hand, ev'ry head
Bind with cypress and sad yew,
Ribbons black and candles blue,
For him that was of men most true.

Come with heavy moaning,
And on his grave
Let him have
Sacrifice of sighs and groaning.
Let him have fair flow'rs enow,
White and purple, green and yellow,
For him that was of men most true.