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“Oh Mother, Mother make my bed Make it soft and narrow My William died for love of me, And I shall die of sorrow They buried her in the old churchyard. Sweet William's grave was nigh hers And from his grave grew a red, red rose And from her grave a brier. They grew and grew up the old church spire Until they could grow no higher And there they twined, in a true love knot, The red, red rose and the brier.” — Cassandra Clare
Oh Mother, Mother make my bed
Make it soft and narrow
My William died for love of me,
And I shall die of sorrow
They buried her in the old churchyard.
Sweet William's grave was nigh hers
And from his grave grew a red, red rose
And from her grave a brier.
They grew and grew up the old church spire
Until they could grow no higher
And there they twined, in a true love knot,
The red, red rose and the brier.