The Banks of the Sweet Primroses
As I roved out one midsummer's morningTo view the fields and to take the air'Twas down by the banks of the sweet primrosesThere I beheld a most lovely fair
Says I: "Fair maid, where can you be a goingAnd what's the occasion of all your griefI will make you as happy as any ladyIf you will grant me one small relief"
Stand up, stand up, you false deceiverYou are a false deceitful man, 'tis plain'Tis you that is causing my poor heart to wanderAnd to give me comfort 'tis all in vain
Now I'll go down to some lonesome valleyWhere no man on earth shall e'er me findWhere the pretty small birds do change their voicesAnd ev'ry moment blows blustrous wild