On his way to Normandy a knight stopped his noble steed

he saw a woman by the river, crying on her knees;

he asked what kind of sorrow could make someone weep so much

she said the English took her child and burned her down to ash.

«I knew your daughter», said the knight, «she’s saved my life before,

I'm in her debt until the English are no more»    

the woman turned and said «I have no use for that, you see,

no amount of bloodshed can ever bring her back to me»