Oh Anna Waters' wondrous deep
And my love Ann is wondrous bonnie
I'm loathe that she should wet her feet
Because I love her best of any.

Go saddle for me the bonny grey mare
Go saddle her and make her ready.

For I must cross the stream tonight,
Or never more I'll see my lady.

He's ridden over field and fen.
O'er moor and moss and many's the mire,
But the spurs of steel were sore to bite.
Sparks from the mare's hoofs flew like fire.
The mare flew over moor and moss,
And when she's reached the Anna Waters
She couldn't have ridden a furlong more
Had a thousand whips been laid upon her

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