A maid walked out one day, one day
She met an aged man by the way.
His head was bald, his beard was grey,
His clothing made of the cold earthen clay,
His clothing made of the cold earthen clay.
She said, "Old man, what man are you?
What country do you belong unto?"
"My name is d**h - hast heard of me?
All kings and princes bow down unto me
And you fair maid must come along with me."
"I'll give you gold, I'll give you pearls,
I'll give you costly rich robes to wear,
If you will spare me a little while
And give me time my life to amend,
And give me time my life to amend."
"I'll have no gold, I'll have no pearls,
I want no costly rich robes to wear.
I cannot spare you a little while
Nor give you time your life to amend,
Nor give you time your life to amend."
In six months time this fair maid died;
"Let this be put on my tombstone," she cried,
"Here lies a poor distressed maid.
All in her prime she was snatched away,
Her clothing made of the cold earthen clay."