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THE WILLOW TREE.
Oh, take me to your arms, my love,
For keen the wind doth blow;
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 lie, in misery,
Beneath the willow tree.
My love has wealth and beauty,
The rich attend her door;
My love has wealth and beauty,
But I, alas! am poor.
The ribbon fair that bound her hair
Is all that's left to me;
And 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,
I thought I had a friend;
My wealth is lost, my friend is false,
My love is stole from me;
And here I lie, in misery,
Beneath the willow tree.
