She was a lass from the low country
And he was a lord of high degree
And she loved his lordship so tenderly
Sing sorrow, sing sorrow
And she sleeps in the valley
Where the wildflowers nod
Nobody 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 waited as he passed but he paid no heed
Sing sorrow, sing sorrow
And she sleeps in the valley
Where the wildflowers nod
Nobody knows she loved him
But herself and God
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
Sing sorrow, sing sorrow
And you sleep in the valley
Where the wildflowers nod
Nobody knows you loved him
But yourself and God
|
Switch to Russian 
