As I was a walking down by the loch
As I was a walking one morning of late
Who should I spy but my own dear comrade?
Wrapped up in flannel so hard is his fate

I boldly stepped up to and kindly did ask him
Why are you wrapped up in flannel so white?
My body is injured and sadly disordered
All by a young woman, my own heart's delight

Oh had she but told me when she disordered me
Had she but told me of it at the time
I might have got salts or pills of white mercury
But now I'm cut down in the height of my prime

Get six pretty maidens to carry my coffin
And six pretty maidens to bear up my pall
And give to each of them bunches of roses
That they may not smell me as they go along