She's like the swallow that flies so high,
She's like the river that never runs dry,
She's like the sunshine on the lee shore,
I love my love and love is no more.
'Twas out in the meadow this fair maid did go,
A-picking the beautiful prim'rose;
The more she plucked, the more she pulled
Until she gathered her 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...(more)
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