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2 My love she won't love me, yes, I do understand, She wants a freeholder and I've got no land, But plenty to maintain her on, silver and gold
And as many other fine things as my love's house can hold.
3 Farewell to my mother and adieu to my old father, too, I am going to ramble this whole world all through; And when I get tired I'll set down and weep
And think on my darling, pretty Saro, my sweet.
4 Down in some lonesome valley, down in some lone place, Where the small birds do whistle their notes to increase; But when I get sorrow, I'll set down and cry
And think or my darling, my darling so nigh.
5 I wish I were a poet and could write some fine hand,
I would write my love a letter that she might understand; I would send it by the water where the island overflow, And I'd think of my darling wherever I go.
6 I wish I were a dove and had wings and could fly; This night to my love's window I would draw nigh, And in her lily-white arms all night I would lay
And watch them little windows to the dawning of day.