'You've bought me with your gold,' she said,
'You've bought me with your gold;
Upon this breast you lay your head;
I would this breast were cold,' she said;
'I would this breast were cold
In churchyard mould.'

'But O! I love him well,’ she said,
'But O! I love him well—
So well I would that I were dead,
And laid in narrow cell,' she said;
'And laid in narrow cell,
For life is hell.'

'Bodies are bought for gold,' she said,
'Bodies are bought for gold;
​But hearts can not be forced to wed,
Though worlds grow grey and old,' she said;
'Though worlds grow grey and old—
Nor is love sold.'