For other versions of this work, see The Willow Tree.
The Willow Tree.
OH! take me to your arms, my love,
For keen the wind doth blow:
Oh! take me to your arms, my love,
For bitter is my woe!
She hears me not, she cares not,
Nor will she list to me;
While here I lie, in misery,
Beneath the Willow Tree.
My love has wealth and beauty—
The rich attend her door
My love has wealth and beauty,
And I, alas, am poor!
The ribband fair, that bound her hair,
Is all that's left to me;
While here I lie, in misery,
Beneath the Willow Tree.
I once had gold and silver—
I thought them without end:
I once had gold and silver,
And I thought I had a friend!
My wealth is lost—my friend is false—
My love he stole from me;
While here I lie, alone to die,
Beneath the Willow Tree.