As I walked forth one summer's day,
To view the meadows green and gay,
A pleasant bower I espied,
Standing fast by the riverside,
And into maiden I heard cry,
Then round the meadow did she walk,
Catching each flower by the stalk,
And as she bowed them still cried she,
Alas, alas, there's none a
The flowers of the sweetest
She bound about with naughty bents,
And as she bound them up in bands
Alas, alas, alas cried she
Alas, alas, there's none a -loved like me
When she had filled her apron
full of such green things as
the green leaves softened for her bed,
Alas, alas, with love her heart did break.
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