Come away, come away, death

And in sad cypress let me be laid;

Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew

O prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true

Did share it

Not a flower, not a flower sweet

On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:

Lay me, O where

Sad true lover never find my grave

To weep there!