I thought my true love slept;
Behind her chair I crept
  And pulled out a long pin;
The golden flood came out,
She shook it all about,
  With both our faces in.

Ah! little wren, I know
Your mossy, small nest now
  A windy, cold place is;
No eye can see my face,
Howe'er it watch the place
  Where I half drown in bliss.

When I am drowned half dead,
She laughs and shakes her head;
  Flogged by her hair-waves, I
Withdraw my face from there;
But never once, I swear,
  She heard a mercy-cry.