The Oxford Book of Ballads - online book

A Selection Of The Best English Lyric Ballads Chosen & Edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch

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          The Trees So High
i
ALL the trees they are so high, The leaves they are so green, The day is past and gone, sweet-heart, That you and I have seen. It is cold winter's night, You and I must bide alone: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing.
ir In a garden as I walked,
I heard them laugh and call; There were four and twenty playing there, They played with bat and ball. O the rain on the roof, Here and I must make my moan: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing.
in I listen'd in the garden,
I looked o'er the wall ; 'Midst five and twenty gallants there My love exceeded all.
O the wind on the thatch, Here and I alone must weep: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing.
rv O father, father dear,
Great wrong to me is done, That I should married be this day, Before the set of sun. 7q8
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