Duration: 6 minutes
The falcon hath born my mate away.
He bore him up, he bore him down,
He bore him to an orchard brown.
In that orchard there was a hall,
That was hung with purple and pall.
And in that hall there was a bed,
It was hung with gold so red.
And in that bed there lieth a knight,
His wounds bleeding day and night.
By that bedside there kneeleth a maid,
And she weepeth both night and day.
And by that bedside there standeth a stone,
"Corpus Christi" written thereon.
Anonymous, ca. 1504