Fare you well on the morrow I must leave And I'm bound for a far and distant land A tale would tell of my poor heart and how it grieves So for you my love this sorrowful Pavan
Chorus: I was born in Lincoln country And the son of a country wife am I Out of all the flowers growing wild in yon forest You're the fairest rose on which I've laid an eye
Love me hard with the dawn I'll be gone And I don't know if I'll be back again God as my guard I'm the champion of the wronged Off to holy wars to fight the Saracen
Chorus
Middle 8 While you're away does your spouse turn a whore Or a chastity belt maiden while crusader's at war I'm tired of my chain mail My armour makes me sore And it all seems so futile
Weep you will but my love I cannot stay Dry your eyes and we'll share a parting kiss Wait until the advent of that day When I'm home and gone is sadness as this