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When I was in my prime I flourished like a vine |
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There came along a false young man which stole the heart of mine |
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Which stole the heart of mine. |
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The gardener standing by, three choices he offered to me |
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The paint, the violet and red rose, which I refused all three |
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Which I refused all three. |
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The paint's no flower at all, for it fades away to soon |
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The violet is too pale a hue, I think I'll wait 'til June |
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I think I'll wait 'til June. |
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In June the red rose blooms, that's not the flower for me |
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I think I'll pull the red rose up and plant a willow tree |
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And plant a willow tree. |
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And the willow tree shall weep, and the willow tree shall whine |
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I wish I was in the young man's arms that stole the heart of mine |
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That stole the heart of mine. |
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If I should last for one year more, and God should grant me grace |
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I'll save enough crystal tears to wash his deceitful face |
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To wash his deceitful face. |
