The Willow Song
The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,; Sing willow, willow, willow; With his hand in his bosom, and his head upon his knee,; O willow willow willow shall be my garland.; Sing all a green willow, willow, willow, willow ;  Aye me the green willow must be my garland!;  He sighed to his singing, and made a great moan,;  Sing willow, willow, willow ;  I am dead to all pleasure, my true love, she is gone.;  O willow willow willow shall be my garland.; Sing all a green willow, willow, willow, willow ;  Aye me the green willow must be my garland!; 