Not the song by Cynthia Gooding as mentioned in the first posting of this thread, but a traditional song that seems to be compiled from bits of Lord Lovel, Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor, George Collins to name but a few ...

MOTHER, MOTHER, MAKE MY BED.

"Mother, Mother, make my bed
And wrap me in a milk white sheet.
And wrap me up in a cloak of gold
To see whether I can sleep.

And bring to me the two bailies
Likewise my sister's only son.
That they might fetch me my own true love,
Or I'll die ere he can come."

The first three miles they walked
The next three miles they quickly ran,
And when they came to the high waterside
They fell to their breasts and they swam.

And when they came to the high castle
They found my Lord sitting at his meat.
"If you could know what news we bring
Not one mouthful more would you eat.

"What news, what news do you bring to me?
Is my high castle burning down?"
"No, your true love is very ill
And will die ere you can come."

"Go saddle to me my milk white horse
And bridle him so very neat.
That I might kiss of her lily lips
That are to me so sweet.

They saddled for him his milk white steed
At twelve o'clock at night.
He rode till he met with six young men.
With a corpse all dressed in white.

"Come set her down, oh set her down
Come set her down by me
That I may kiss of her lily lips
Before she is taken away."

My lady she died on the Saturday night
Before the sun had gone down.
My lord he died on the Sunday next.
Ere the evening prayers were begun.

My lady was laid in the high castle
My lord was buried in the choir.
And out of my lady there grew a red rose
And out of my lord a sweet briar.

The rose and the briar, they grew up together
Till they could grow no higher.
They met at the top in a true lovers' knot.
And the rose clung to the briar.