Six dukes went a-fishing
Down by the seaside
One spied a dead body
Come floating in the tide

And the one said to the other
These words I heard them say:
“It's the Royal Duke of Grantham
That the tide has washed away”

And they took him up to London
To the place where was known;
From there back to Grantham
The place where he was born

And they took out his bowels
And they bound up his feet
And they 'balmed his body
With roses so sweet

Six Dukes went before him
Nine raised him from the ground
Twelve Lords followed after
In their black mourning gowns

So black was their mourning
So white were the wands
So yellow were the flamboys
They carried in their hands

He now lies 'twixt two towers
He now lies in cold clay
And the Royal Queen of Grantham
Went weeping away