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LASS FROM THE LOW COUNTRY Oh she was a lass from the low country And he was a lord of high degree And she loved his lordship so tenderly Oh sorrow, sing sorrow Now she sleeps in the valley Where the wildflowers nod And no one knows she loved him But herself and God One day when the show was on the mead He passed her by on a milk white steed She spoke to him low but he paid no heed So if you be a lass from the low country Don't love no lord of high degree For they ain't got no heart or sympathy @love filename[ LASSLOWC SOF |
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