Early one morning, just as the sun was
rising,
I heard a maid sing in the valley below:
"Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me,
How could you use a poor maiden so?
"Remember the vows that you made to me truly;
Remember how tenderly you nestled close to me.
Gay is the garland, fresh are the roses
I've culled from the garden to bind over thee.
"Here I now wander alone as I wonder
Why did you leave me to sigh and complain?
I ask of the roses, why should I be forsaken?
Why must I here in sorrow remain?
"Through yonder grove, by the spring that is running,
There you and I have so merrily played,
Kissing and courting and gently sporting,
Oh, my innocent heart you've betrayed!
"How could you slight so a pretty girl who loves you,
A pretty girl who loves you so dearly and warm?
Though love's folly is surely but a fancy,
Still it should prove to me sweeter than your scorn.
"Soon you will meet with another pretty maiden,
Some pretty maiden, you'll court her for a while;
Thus ever ranging, turning and changing,
Always seeking for a girl that is new."
Thus sang the maiden, her sorrows bewailing;
Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below:
"Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me,
How could you use a poor maiden so?"