The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow, willow
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow
The fresh streams ran by her, and mumur'd
Her moans
Sing willow, willow, willow
Her salt tears fell from her, & soften'd the stones;
Sing willow, willow, willow
Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,
I call'd my love false love; but what said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow
If I court moe women,
You'll couch with moe men.
Sing willow, willow, willow
(Repeat)
Sing all a green willow must be my garland
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve.
I call'd my love false love; but what said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow
If I court moe women
You'll couch with moe men
Sing willow, willow, willow