I will twine and will mingle my waving black hair With the roses so red and the lily so fair, The myrtle so green of an emerald hue The pale emanita and eyes look like blue.
Oh, he promised to love me, he promised to love, To cherish me always, all others above. I woke from my dream and my idol was clay. My passion for loving had vanished away.
Oh, he taught me to love him, he called me his flower, A blossom to cheer him through life's weary hour. But now he has gone and left me alone, The wildflowers to weep, and the wild birds to moan.
I'll dance and I'll sing, and my life shall be gay. I'll charm every heart in the crowd I survey. Though my heart is now breaking, he never shall know How his name makes me tremble, my pale cheeks to glow.
I'll dance and I'll sing, and my heart will be gay. I'll banish this weeping, drive troublews away; I'll live yet to see him, regret this dark hour When he won and neglected this frail wildwood flower.
-- This is from: Irwin and Fred Silber, Compilers, Folksinger's Wordbook (New York: Oak Publications, 1973), p. 166.