[Attalus]

Boy, it really sounds medieval, or at least Renaissance.
How about

On top of Old Smokey
All covered with snow,
I lost my true lover
From couring too slow.

For courting's a pleasure
And parting a grief.
A false-hearted lover
Is worse than a thief.

For a thief will just rob you.
And take all you have,
But a false-hearted lover
Will lead you to the grave.

Then the grave will decay you,
And turn you to dust.
Not one boy in a hundred
A poor girl can trust.

For they'll hug you and kiss you
And tell you more lies
Then cross-ties on a railroad
Or the stars in the skies.

So, come all you maidens
And listen to me:
Never place your affections
On a green willow-tree.

For the leaves they will wither
And the roots they will die
And leave you forsaken
And never know why.