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The trees they grow high, |
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the leaves they do grow green |
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Many is the time my true love I've seen |
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Many an hour I have watched him all alone |
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He's young, |
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but he's daily growing |
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Father, dear father, |
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you've done me great wrong |
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You have married me to a boy who is too young |
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I'm twice twelve and he is but fourteen |
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He's young, |
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but he's daily growing |
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Daughter, dear daughter, |
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I've done you no wrong |
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I have married you to a great lord's son |
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He'll be a man for you when I am dead and gone |
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He's young, |
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but he's daily growing |
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Father, dear father, if you see fit |
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We'll send him to college for another year yet |
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I'll tie blue ribbons all around his head |
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To let the maidens know that he's married |
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One day I was looking o'er my father's castle wall |
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I spied all the boys playing at the ball |
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My own true love was the flower of them all |
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He's young, but he's daily growing |
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At the age of fourteen, he was a married man |
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At the age of fifteen, the father of a son |
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At the age of sixteen, his grave it was green |
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And death had put an end to his growring |
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I'll buy my love some flannel |
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and I will make a shroud |
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With every stitch I put in it, |
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The tears they will pour down |
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With every stitch I put in it, |
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How the tears will flow |
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Cruel fate has put an end to his growing |
