Lully, lullay, lully, lullay,
The falcon hath borne my make away.
He bore him up, he bore him down;
He bore him into an orchard brown.
In that orchard there was a hall,
That was hanged with purple and pall.
And in that hall there was a bed;
It was hanged with gold so red.
And in that bed there lieth a knight,
His wounds bleeding day and night.
By that bed’s side there kneeleth a may,
And she weeps both night and day.
And by that bed’s side there standeth a stone,
Corpus Christi written thereon.