There is an ale house in yon town
where my love goes and sits him down,
And he takes a young lass on his knee
And that's a grief, a grief to me. 
A grief, a grief I will tell you why,
Because she has more gold than I,
But the gold will go and her beauty will pass,
She'll become to a poor girl like me at last. 

Now all you fair maids take my advice
And never trust a soldier twice,
For he'll pass my door
And he won't come in
Now that my apron's to my chin. 
The father of this bairn's a dirty rat,
He knows he's left a love begat,
And if I die it 'll be a shame
For he'll never know his father's name. 

Oh! dig my grave, dig it wide and deep,
Place marble stones at my head and feet,
And on my breast put a turtle dove
So the world 'll know I died of love. ... Love.