Ewe-boughts Marion (1)/Beneath the willow tree

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BENEATH THE WILLOW TREE

O take me to your arms, my love,
⁠for keen the wind doth blaw;
O 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;
And here I die in misery,
⁠beneath the willow tree.
⁠Willow, willow, willow,
⁠Beneath the willow tree.

My love has wealth has love and beauty,
⁠the rich attend the door;
My love has wealth and beauty,
⁠and I, alas! am poor.
The ribbon fair that bound her hair,
⁠is all that’s left to me:
Whilst here I die in misery,
⁠beneath the wil w tree.
⁠Willow, &c.

I once had gold and silver,
⁠I thought ’em 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;
And here I lie in misery,
⁠beneath the Willow tree.
⁠Willow, &c.