Child's, The English And Scottish Ballads

Volume 4 of 8 from 1860 edition -online book

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"WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW.            235
He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone,
Come willow, fyc. " I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone.
0 willow, fyc.                                                                10
Sing, 0 the greene willow shall be my garland.
" My love she is turned : untrue she doth prove;
0 willow, fyc. She renders me nothing but hate for my love.
O willow, fyc.                                                                n
Sing, 0 the greene willow, fyc.
" 0 pitty me," cried he, " ye lovers, each one ;
0 willow, 8)C. Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone.
0 willow, 3?c.                                                                so
Sing, 0 the greene willow, fyc."
The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace;
0 willow, SfC. The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face.
0 willow, SfC.                                                                85
Sing, 0 the greene willow, fyc.
The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones; 0 willow, Sfc.







E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III