At break of day past my fathers tower,
My love Lord Robert rode,
Singing as he went by my bower,
But a look he never gave me.

I called to him, but he did not hear.
Not e'en a look gave he.
Rode he far from his own Ellen dear,
On the road towards the sea.

I passed the gate, and I called and cried,
As he rode to the sea.
And I knew he would not turn again.
He will ne'er come back to me.

Last night, we quarrelled and spoke in haste,
And bitter words had we.
And so I am sad for fear my love
He will not come back to me.

I sit alone and long for him,
The tender words he said.
I shall mourn him 'till this world shall end,
And my lonely heart is dead.