� She is like the swallow that flies on high She is like the river that never runs dry She is like the sun beaming on the lee shore I love my love, but love is no more � A maiden into her garden did go Far to pluck her some wild primrose The more she plucked and the more she did pull Until this maiden's apron was full � � Then out of these roses she made a bed A scarlet pillow for her head She laid her down, no word did she speak And then this maiden's heart it did break She is like the swallow that flies on high She is like the river that never runs dry She is like the sun beaming on the lee shore I love my love, but love is no more � But love is no more
