O, Rosamond so fair
Blessed by God with beauty rare
A mountain’s life doth flow to thee
O, Rosamond, my joy, my glee
Thy long hair flowing down
Until it touch the ground
And longer still it grows
Further still it goes
There so far away from me
Where Sailors wish to marry thee
But in thy hollow I would climb
And there with thee would spend my time.
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