early one morning one morning in spring
to hear the birds whistle nightingales sing
I met a for maiden who sweetly did sing
I'm going to be marry next monday morning
how old are you my fair young maid
here is this valley this valley so green
how old are you my fair young maid
I'm going to be sixteen next monday morning
well sixteen years old, that's too young marry
so take my advice, five years longer to tarry
for marriage brings trouble and sorrous begin
so put off your wedding for monday morning
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