|
He's like the swallow that flies so high, |
|
He's like the river that never runs dry. |
|
He's like the sunshine on the lee shore, |
|
He was my love, my love is no more. |
|
Out in the garden, |
|
I'm picking roses, how could he not |
|
The more he picked and the more he pulled, |
|
Until I gathered an apron full. |
|
She climbed on yonder hill above |
|
To give a rose unto her love. |
|
She gave him one, she gave him three |
|
She gave her heart for company. |
|
And as they sat on yonder hill |
|
His heart grew hard, so harder still. |
|
He has two hearts instead of one. |
|
She says, 'Young man, what have you done?' |
|
'How foolish, foolish you must be |
|
To think I love no one but thee. |
|
The world's not made for one alone, |
|
I take delight in everyone.' |
|
Out of these roses he made a bed, |
|
A stony pillow for his head. |
|
He lay his head down, no word he spoke |
|
.... |
