Mother, go make my bed,
make it long and narrow,
my true love died for me yesterday,
I shall die for him tomorrow.

She was burried in a church house yard,
And he was burried there beside her,
And from his grave grew roses red,
From hers grew green brier.

They grew and grew so very high,
Till they can grow no higher,
And at the top grew their true love's nut,
Twine with green brier.

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