text: Hell wear your heart and you will wear his ring
  And youll go rolling down a mustard hill
  Play a lullaby on a fishbone harp
  Ride away on the gray mares tail
  In the morning
  In the morning
  In the morning when I/you rise
  In the morning
  In the morning
  In the morning I/you will be my/your true loves bride
  Weave a rosemary wreath in your auburn hair
  And youll be the envy of all the girls
  Hell wear your heart - and you will wear his ring
  And youll go rolling down a mustard hill
  Play a lullaby on a fishbone harp
  Ride away on the gray mares tail
  In the morning
  In the morning
  In the morning when I/you rise
  In the morning
  In the morning
  In the morning I/you will be my/your true loves bride
  Oh the blood of the lamb is in the well
  And it runs from the crack along the wedding bell
  Perhaps a wind has blown the barrel from its mark
  I heard the bird but could not hit it in the dark
  I have bought and sold my only love
  And my rifle, it has let me down
  In the morning
  In the morning
  In the morning when I/you rise
  In the morning
  In the morning
  In the morning will I/she ever be his/my bride?